


Supercharged

by becca2793



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A supercharger on a car, M/M, and there it is, bc like, but its p much 70 percent street racing type illegal, everyone is a criminal lmao, everyone is human, gratuitous car lingo, im thirsty af and love cars, latino lance, mostly from Lance's perspective but everyone will get a turn, non-binary Pidge, nyma and rolo are Bad News, space gays are now modern day earth gays, street-racing fic, the e rating, this gay ass title brought you by "car puns", to increase torque
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becca2793/pseuds/becca2793
Summary: “I figured you’d be more pumped up for this one.”He cocks his head to the side in confusion. Why this one in particular? “I’m…always pumped up…?”“More,” she reiterates.“Why?”“Well, because Keith is gonna be here, obviously.”He is quiet for a long, long moment. Longer than is socially acceptable probably, and Nyma starts to look a little worried. “Keith…as in…Keith Kogane…?” He asks, voice trembling without his consent.





	1. Off to the Races

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't uploaded a fic to anywhere in ages. Let's see if I can still do this.

She lounges next to the pool, sun shining down on her, a glass of chilled champagne in her hand. It’s a rather cool day for mid-July, but she supposes they are right on the ocean, and the breeze rolling in from the Pacific soothes the heat that would normally suffocate the west coast. Closer to the mountains or desert it’s probably easily above the nineties, but here it’s a balmy seventy-two, and she couldn’t be more grateful that Coran found this place. It’s close to the city, but not so close that she’ll be interrupted by the busy lives that inhabit Los Angeles. Or the careful eyes.

She shifts, then pulls her white sunglasses off and sits up, setting them primly on the table next to her before stretching her arms above her head. She’s almost tempted to swim, the pool was recently cleaned, and the pristine blue water calls to her, but she knows there’s work to attend to. Sighing, she grabs her personal phone and shoots off a text to Coran. It takes less than thirty seconds for her to get a reply, and a small smile graces her lips. “Perfect,” she whispers, and her smile stretches even further. Running manicured fingers through her hair, she turns, staring out at the horizon line stretching across the ocean.

Honestly, she does miss her home. Her father’s death drove her to America, and then to California, and she sometimes wishes she could go back; she’d give up everything, truly, to go back home, to have him next to her again, but it’s impossible. Regardless, she does feel a strong fondness for this place. If she had to end up anywhere, she’s glad it was here.

Her phone buzzes again, and she gazes at where the sky meets the ocean for a couple seconds longer before looking down at the message.

Besides, she thinks as she spins on her heel and walks back towards her home, leaving the sunglasses at the poolside, if she didn’t live here, she’d have missed out on her livelihood. And honestly, short of having her father rise from the dead, there’s nothing she’d give that up for, either.

 

Trying to decipher the thump of bass from the rumbling of his engine is borderline impossible, but he’s not turning his music down to find out. He taps his fingers against his leather-covered steering wheel in time with the song, something by Don Omar, and squints as the crowd of people part ways for his car. Typically he would go for American muscle, like Hunk tends to, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Pidge sighed at him for months about it, but Lance hasn’t stopped laughing since, so he doesn’t care. His Mitsubishi Lancer is as much his baby as any of his other cars have been.

He sees Pidge’s car first, only because of the vibrant green glow coming from the underbody. He revs the engine playfully as he nears, alerting his friend of his arrival, and sees a mop of unruly brown hair pop up in surprise from the other side of the Nissan. Pidge crosses their arms and frowns at him as he rolls to a stop and climbs out of his car to greet them. “Lance,” they say, disappointment evident in their tone. “You’re fifteen minutes late.”

He shrugs and leans against his car. “Where’s my beautiful husband?”

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you two got hitched while I wasn’t looking.”

“We’ve been married since we were like eight, okay?”

“Does Shay know that?”

“We thought it would make it awkward. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

They shake their head. “Well, your husband’s getting his side-chick a drink, then.”

He flashes them a wide grin and then pushes off his Lancer’s frame immediately when he catches sight of bright blonde hair in long pigtails. He saunters forward, hands shoved in his jean pockets, and whistles loudly when he nears her. “ _Maldita, Chica!_ You an alien? ‘Cause your ass is out of this world.”

Nyma spins around, hair whipping around with her, and giggles immediately upon recognizing him. “Lance,” she returns, dark red lips curling around a grin. “So good to see you again.”

“Of course it is,” he returns, feigning confidence and looking down at his admittedly well-kept fingernails. “I mean, it’s not even a race without me.”

She laughs again, covering her mouth with a dainty hand, and he lets his eyes wander down her form – mostly because she actually lets him without comment. She never has a problem with him checking her out, which is good news for him, because getting punched out by chicks is more than a little embarrassing. Besides, he’s not so much of an asshole that he’d make someone uncomfortable just to please himself. Probably. “I figured you’d be more pumped up for this one.”

He cocks his head to the side in confusion. Why this one in particular? “I’m…always pumped up…?”

“ _More_ ,” she reiterates.

“Why?”

“Well, because Keith is gonna be here, obviously.”

He is quiet for a long, long moment. Longer than is socially acceptable probably, and Nyma starts to look a little worried. “Keith…as in…Keith Kogane…?” He asks, voice trembling without his consent.

“Do you have any outstanding grudges against any other Keith’s?”

Honestly anyone with the name Keith is immediately labeled bad news to him, but he doesn’t say that out loud. It’s maybe a little…petty… “Excuse me, _Hermosa…_ ” he says quietly, as calmly as he can, before stomping back over to Pidge. The crowd and noise bleeds away as something resembling anxiety fills his chest. It’s most likely fury, though. …Definitely fury, he’s positive. At least, like, sixty percent positive. “ _You._ ”

“Me,” they return with a nod.

“You _knew_ Keith was coming tonight.”

They bite their lip to hide a grin. “I was hoping you wouldn’t realize until he got here.”

“You’re bitching at me about being late, but invited fucking Mullet? He’s _never_ on fucking time!”

“Which is why you aren’t actually late. Neither of you are. We told you two the pass was an hour earlier than it is because we knew you’d never get here on time.”

He shoots them a nasty glare. “Where is _Hunk_? Why is he taking so long? I need to get a divorce.”

“Don’t go breaking his heart, Lance. He’ll be distracted the entire race if he believes your fake romance is over.”

“Fuck off,” he spits. God, Pidge is such a sarcastic little shit. Why does he even hang around them? He pulls out his phone to check the time; it’s close to ten-fifty now, which means Keith will probably arrive within the next half an hour or so. Lance has never seen him show up to a race any earlier than an hour late. It’s why so many people refuse to race him.

One of the reasons, anyway.

He grumbles and pockets his phone again, narrowing his eyes at Hunk when he sees him push through the crowd, Shay at his arm. She’s laughing at something he said, and he’s waving his free arm wildly as he retells some story. Lance crosses his arms and taps his foot impatiently until Hunk notices he’s there.

“Hey, buddy!”

“Hey, _ex_ -buddy.”

“Oh, he found out,” he directs at Pidge, who just laughs.

“Of course I did! Like I wouldn’t fucking notice an asshole as big as Keith Kogane at my race!”

“Is he here yet?” Hunk cranes his neck, looking around, but upon finding no red Mustang visibly relaxes.

“If he was, you would have heard the explosions from miles away,” Pidge says, taking off their glasses to wipe the lenses on their shirt. “What happened the last time he and Lance raced? Didn’t someone literally catch on fire?”

“They didn’t die!” Lance counters. “They were barely hurt, and it was worth it to kick Keith into another fucking century.”

“Keith still won,” Hunk offers, timidly.

“ _Listen,_ ” he snarls, pointing a finger at his ex-best friend, but he’s interrupted by the loud snarl of an open exhaust. Fuck. That’s him. Early by Keith standards.

He’s so fucking obnoxious and – and _rude_ – and – and – fuck he’s so cool and Lance _hates_ him and his Mustang is so goddamn loud. It drives him insane. “It’s bad for the environment,” he hollers at the car, but knows no one can hear him over Keith’s bullshit exhaust system. (And at one time he considered an open exhaust, because of the extra horsepower, but Keith does it and he does not want to look like he’s copying him.)

The driver’s door opens, revealing Keith in all his stupid-hot glory, hair disheveled and beautiful and dumb and outdated. He runs fingers through his bangs, pushing them back from his pale forehead, and Lance doesn’t miss the fact that he’s wearing those goddamn fingerless compression gloves again. _‘It’s better for gripping the wheel,’_ Keith said, but he doesn’t give a shit. He’s still a tool. He walks towards them, and Lance keeps his eyes off of him because he can’t stand the fact that Keith is so attractive when he’s such a fucking dipshit. And if he doesn’t look at him, he doesn’t have to acknowledge it.

But then Keith is right in front of him, giving him a little half-nod. “Hey, Lance.”

Lance’s lip twitches. “ _Que pasa,_ Mullet?”

Keith then proceeds to ignore him to greet Pidge and Hunk. He tries not to let it get to him, because he should be happy that the guy isn’t trying to initiate actual conversation with him, but it leaves him feeling peeved like usual. It’s just – it’s like Keith doesn’t even find him worth it. Like he doesn’t think Lance is anything worth paying attention to.

It drives him mad.

He turns, taking in the sight of how well the three – four, counting Shay – get along. It’s like they don’t even realize that Keith is the absolute worst, and that they should hate him strictly on the principle of Lance doing so. Whatever. He grimaces and stays out of it for a bit before Hunk gives him a look, and he sighs in order to walk up to them and join the conversation, whether Keith wants him there or not.

“Who orchestrated this?” Keith asks Pidge, leaning back on his heels and looking down at them. Lance has got a few inches on the dark-haired man, which pleases him to no end, but basically everyone has to look down at poor Pidge. Then again, Pidge is like four years younger than any of them, so they might still have room to grow.

They shrug. “Rolo.”

Keith frowns, and for once Lance agrees. “I don’t like that guy.”

“How do you think I feel,” Hunk intones, leaning forward, and Shay pats at his arm. “I almost didn’t want to come!”

“You?!” Lance shrieks, pointing at him. “You do realize,” he whispers harshly, bringing his voice down several notches so as not to be heard over the crowd. He probably wouldn’t be overheard anyway. “That I’m trying to get with Nyma, right? He’s like, the number one thing in my way!”

“He’s a crook!” Hunk yelps, and then Pidge presses a finger to their lips to signal him to shush.

“Listen, none of us are perfect, law-abiding citizens; Hunk – your claims have zero basis, you do not _know_ he cut the brakes to that car, and Lance – you are never fucking Nyma, so get over it!”

Lance sniffs in offense. “You don’t know that. She’s totally into me.”

They all ignore him, but Keith does shoot him a strange look. Probably thinks he’s better than Lance – that he could have already hooked up with Nyma, that he’s hooked up with a thousand girls or something.

Pidge sighs. “Rolo got all of this together, and you know we need the money for the garage. It makes literally no difference who creates the actual pass –”

“Except that they get a cut!”

“But Rolo’s passes always have at least six people. His are big. It’s the only way we can race as somewhat of a team – Keith, excluded. Otherwise, we have to do each pass separately, which greatly decreases our chances of a win.”

Lance hates that they’re right. Honestly, he started all of this to get money for his _mamá_ , but he’s far past that now. Most of their winnings go into a big pile for the garage, and whatever’s left over for the individual winner goes to one of their personal accounts. So it’s not like he races only for the garage, but it’s definitely an important part of it.

“Besides, big races have big pots,” Keith shrugs. “You always make more from one of them.”

Lance gives him a begrudging grunt of agreement and throws his arms behind his head. “Well, then where is he?”

Hunk looks around. “Yeah, I haven’t seen him all night.”

“He said he’d be around. He’ll show up when it gets closer,” Pidge tells them nonchalantly, as if that isn’t a huge inconvenience.

“What are we supposed to do for half an hour, then?!” Lance returns, irritated.

“I don’t know – go flirt with Nyma until she gets fed up with you or something.” They wave a hand in the general direction of where she’d been standing earlier, and Lance looks over there, but he doesn’t see any familiar shock of blonde hair and pale skin, so he frumps over and frowns deeply.

“Hey,” Hunk tells him, in a soft, acquiescing tone. At least, as soft as he can be with all of the noise around them. “There are tons of people here, and you love to socialize. You don’t have to get mopey.” Lance shoots him a weak smile. Maybe they don’t need to get divorced after all. “Or, you know, why don’t you hang out with Keith for a little while? You can actually get to know him. He’s not a bad guy, Lance.” He takes it back. Divorced. As soon as possible.

“What, this guy?” He sneers, cocking his head in Keith’s direction. “I didn’t know he could drop so low as to talk to a peon like me.”

“What’s your damage, man?” Keith snarls. “What the fuck did I ever _do_ to you?”

Lance crosses his arms and purses his lips. Frankly, he can’t quite remember what started the hostility between them, but he knows it was probably bad. And then, ever since, he’s just been so holier-than-thou and so cool and _pretty_ and shit. But he doesn’t say any of that out loud. Instead, he says, “You’re my rival!”

Keith lets out a long suffering, frustrated sigh. “Since when? _Why?_ I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lance.”

Again, he doesn’t remember when or why, either. It’s just…there. It feels like it always has been. This sense of frustration and jealousy whenever he comes around, when Lance is made to see how much better he is, how good-looking and popular he is. For someone as antisocial as him, people flock, and Lance is irritated at the fact that he just pushes them away. He has all of the opportunities in the world for shit, and he just tosses them aside. He’s smart, not that the rest of them aren’t, but he’s smart and all he does is keep to himself. No one ever sees him outside of a pass, no one has any idea of where he goes, or what he does. No one that Lance knows has ever hooked up with him, or even befriended him. He’s a blank slate, and Lance is just pissed that he does it on purpose. He thinks that at one point he wanted to get closer, but he can’t remember that time and it’s definitely long gone. Definitely…

But Lance just harrumphs and walks away to stand next to his car, popping the hood and looking over some things without another word. He doesn’t know what he’d say anyway, too pent up with frustration while trying not to seem bothered to formulate a response. He can’t even focus on what he’s doing, and his hand accidentally touches the engine; he snatches it away quickly, grateful it was just a passing fingertip, and shakes his hand violently as if that will somehow make the burn less painful. While he’s busy hissing and trying not to let his eyes water too much, a hand soothes down his back, and then fingers wrap around the wrist of the injured finger. He turns his head, eyes wide, but it’s just Nyma, eyebrows furrowed. She looks at his hand, at the small burn, and then gently sticks the digit between her lips.

Instantly, his entire body is on fire, burning much hotter than the burn had. He’s glad for how dark it is outside and his dark complexion, because he’s pretty sure he’s blushing, which is not cool for someone his age at a street race. She runs her tongue against it, to cool it, probably, and his knees go a little weak. When she takes it out, he’s vaguely aware of a slight light-headedness, but really, it’s not his fault. Nyma is fucking hot, and he’s been after her for what seems like decades. He feels like a virgin teenager, which he definitely isn’t, but he’s torn between giddy and mortified. “You okay?” She asks, worry evident in her tone.

“U-um,” he stutters. “Yeah. Yeah, totally…totally chill. One hundred percent. Doesn’t even hurt.” He notices his voice is a little high, and he tries to bring it back down, swallowing against his dry mouth. “Thanks.”

It’s probably weird, thanking a girl for sticking his finger in her mouth, but he damn well feels grateful. “ _De nada_ ,” she returns, smiling a little. God, how is someone like her, someone so perfect, into him? How did he manage that? He has to rub this in Pidge’s face later. He hopes they saw, for some evidence.

“So…so where’s Rolo?”

She shrugs. “He’s around, taking care of some business.” Well that doesn’t sound suspicious. He tosses the thought away, however, and continues small talk, flirting with her and twirling a piece of her long hair between his fingers. The contrast of colors is pretty, he thinks, and she giggles when he tells her that. Before he knows it, however, Rolo appears, wiping his hands with a greasy rag and smiling at all of them with a grin just this side of malicious.

When they first met, Lance honestly didn’t have a problem with him. Hunk was suspicious immediately, and immediately wanted nothing to do with him, but Lance didn’t see the issue. Then he met Nyma. Nyma with her pretty eyes and red lips in a perpetual smirk, and he knew he was a goner. He flirted, then flirted some more, but he was quick to notice the connection between them. He wasn’t sure if they were together, neither of them really insinuated it, but there was something about Rolo that totally put him off to Nyma when he was around. The guy wasn’t even remotely hostile about it, but he definitely felt the wall between them that he created.

Then that car crashed in the middle of their first race with him, sending the driver into the ICU, and ever since then he’s been totally on Hunk’s side. The guy is bad news, and it’s really not just to do with his relationship with Nyma. It comes off of him in waves, like a nasty smell, something that permeates the air around him.

But Rolo is always so cool and collected, acting like not a thing’s wrong, acting like he has nothing at all to worry about. And Lance guesses that assuages everyone else around him.  
He notices then that two other cars have joined them, a bright purple Toyota and a milky pink Honda. The drivers are still in the vehicles, so he can’t see them, and he doesn’t like that he doesn’t know who they are. Keith walks past him to get to his Mustang, and Rolo clears his throat.

“Alright, everyone, we’re starting early. Same gig as last time. Roads have been closed off for the next two miles. We’re starting the bid at ten k a driver. Hand it over.”

He’s never done it before, but Lance is worried he’ll just take all their money and run. It’s a deep feeling in his gut, even though he realizes it’s irrational. If word gets out that he’s taking money like that, someone will definitely go after him. And he’s too popular in the underworld – he wouldn’t be able to get away. So he reaches into his car to take out the money, and hands it to Rolo as soon as it’s his turn. He swears he sees a nasty grin on the guy’s face, his lips wrapped around a cigarette, like they usually are, and Lance looks away immediately. He really does not like this guy.

Nyma is attached to his arm now, body warm and pressed against him, and he gets the faint scent of vanilla over the grease and sweat of the pass. She’s never been this clingy with him, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. He glances over at Keith, sly smirk on his face that grows when he notices Keith looking at them already, eyebrows furrowed. Ha! He looks pissy. Probably jealous that Lance was able to get someone like Nyma.

She kisses his cheek and whispers, “Good luck, _Hermoso_ ,” against his ear, lips brushing against the shell, and a shiver runs down his spine. “Do good for me, okay?”

He nods, fervent, biting down on his tongue so he doesn’t make any embarrassing noises.

She walks away, swinging her hips as she does so, and Keith makes an audible noise of disgust. “What, _Chico Lindo_? Jealous?” Lance sneers, feeling triumphant. But Keith just glares at him, with such heat that he feels another shiver run down his spine.

He’s generally more attracted to females, but he does find himself drawn to guys sometimes, too. And the things that he finds sexy in either of them are polar opposites – in girls, he likes femininity, soft brushes and softer lips, but in guys…

But it’s irrelevant, because it’s Keith, and it doesn’t matter how much aggression he puts in his glower, doesn’t matter how warm it makes him, because he hates him. And if he felt something else in the glare, something that maybe makes him want to be pinned down and attacked, well he ignores that, too.

With prompting from Rolo, they climb back into their cars, and two girls run across the empty way in front of them, spray-painting a starting line in startling red. He revs his engine, burning out for traction, and narrows his eyes at the road in front of him. He’s lived in Los Angeles for about five years now, and he thinks he knows the route pretty well. He’s just going to trust his instincts. He turns up his radio, the thrum of Latin rap almost violent inside the dark confines of his Lancer, and takes a deep breath. Then Rolo, at the side of the six of them, lowers his arm and Lance shifts out of neutral, car jolting forward with the momentum caused by the engine turning over while the brakes are locked.

Almost immediately, he shifts again, frowning as the red Mustang pulls in front of him effortlessly, within a single second of them starting. That car is pumped full of even more torque than one would normally see in that kind of vehicle. God, Keith infuriates him.

He pumps the clutch and shifts into third, then fourth, still speeding up, needle on his tachometer shivering as it steadily climbs, lowers, then climbs again in time with the release and push of the clutch. Even at this time of night everything is all lit up – the lights of the city bright and almost overbearing, too harsh. He ignores them, too focused on the road, not noticing when the purple car pulls up alongside him. He looks over at the driver, who looks like some Eastern European, and then the guy is gone, inching ahead of him.

“ _Mierda_ ,” he curses, shaking his head. His Lancer lurches as he pushes his foot down farther, speeding through a red light, and he’s already topping one-hundred. Everything blurs by him, too quickly to discern even if he was able to pay attention, and he speeds past the purple opponent. Pidge is right on his ass, lime green Skyline swerving to his side, trying to maneuver around him, and he growls. Pidge is his friend, but he’s still not going to let them win. He has to, if only to beat Keith.

He quickly downshifts into third to turn a hard corner, then speed-shifts up again, nervousness flitting through him as the tachometer needle lowers quickly - five thousand RPMs, four thousand, thirty-five hundred - and he just glad he won’t stall at this speed. He’d probably burn himself alive out of embarrassment if that happened now. But he’s safe, securely in fifth gear, reaching ninety again, and Keith is only a dozen feet ahead – so close, so close. He sets his mouth in a hard line, quickly turns the wheel to the side for some open space ahead of him, and presses down hard on a button on the steering wheel.

He’s pressed back against the seat as nitrous is injected into the engine, allowing the pistons to pump harder, faster, horsepower climbing quickly. He shoots forward, racing past Keith, flicking his middle finger at him as he passes, lips wobbling as he tries not to grin too hard. They’re close to the finish line now, maybe half a mile away, and considering how fast they’re going, they’ll hit it in no longer than twenty seconds.

One more turn, a sharp one, and he downshifts again, cursing as he takes it a little too wide because of his speed. Keith takes the opportunity, turning closer to the inside, and flips Lance off right back as the nitrous wears off and he slows somewhat.

That’s it. The finish line. Crowds of people cheering and hollering.

And he’s lost. Keith pulls past the line, car spinning almost a complete one-eighty as he downshifts and brakes. Lance follows behind, by no more than a second, and he seethes. Sees red. Again. Keith beat him _again_. And he didn’t even use NOS. He just. Fucking won. What the fuck is this guy? What is in his goddamned Mustang?

He slams his hands against the steering wheel and leans back against the seat, breathing heavily, adrenaline still not worn off, his heart pumping hard and in time with the music bleeding throughout the cab of his car. He doesn’t get out until he’s calmed down a little, opening his door and unfolding himself from the driver’s seat. He’s a little light-headed again, more from the smell of nitrous oxide and gasoline than anything else, and leans against his Lancer as he lets the cooler night air press against his cheeks and soothe his burning cheeks. He’s too riled up, can’t even bare to look at Keith, who’s probably gloating.

Hunk shows up, clapping a hand against his arm. “You did good.”

He rolls his eyes, catching his breath, and hoarsely says, “I fucking lost.”

“Well…” his friend looks to the side. “If it’s any consolation, Keith looks like he lost, too.”

Heat builds in his chest again. “ _¿Que?_ ” he snarls, turning, finding the dark haired man with crossed arms and frowning furiously. “What fucking _right_ does he ha-??” He can’t even finish his sentence, voice quivering. He stomps away, towards the asshole, shoving Hunk off when he tries to grab for him. “ _¡Ay, puto!_ ” Keith looks up at him, just as Lance grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him forward. “What the fuck is your deal? It’s not like a fucking _god_ to look so goddamned shitty when they won _again_.”

“Lance -”

“No! Don’t ‘ _Lance_ ’ me!” He mocks, and people have started to crowd around, excited. Hunk pulls at him again, stronger, strong enough to yank him off of Keith, but Lance just forces himself forward as hard as he can, reaching for Keith. “You asked me what my ‘damage’ was? It’s you! All of you! You’re so self-righteous! You always win races and now you’re looking like the fucking sky has fallen!”

“We are not having this conversation here,” Keith snarls back.

“What conversation?” Lance hollers, grabbing for him with his long arms, and Keith doesn’t even move away, lets himself get dragged forward again. “There’s no conversation! _¡Pudrete en el infierno! ¡Te odio!_ ” Then Keith’s too-hot fingers are around his wrist, prying him away, gripping so hard it genuinely hurts. But Lance doesn’t let himself react to that. He’s heaving, angry.

“No, you don’t,” Hunk says. “You’re just mad. Calm down. You don’t need to fight him.”

“ _¡Si, lo hago! ¡No me digas qué hacer!_ ”

“ _Cálmese_ ,” Hunk tells him. “You’re yelling in Spanish. He can’t even understand what you’re saying.”

Pidge is there, then, folding their arms. “So, have any of you seen the other two drivers who were with us?”

This makes Lance slow down, then pause, confused. He forgets his anger for a moment to look over at Pidge. “What do you mean? Did they leave because they knew they lost?”

Pidge shakes their head. “No, they pulled off before the race ended.”

Immediately, Hunk starts tittering, demeanor changing. “Do you think their scanners picked up something ours didn’t? Are the police coming? Are they here? Oh god, are we going to jail?”

“ _Cálmese,_ ” Pidge mocks, shaking their head. “Don’t panic. There isn’t a scanner in the city stronger than mine. There are no cops around. Something else is up.”

“And where’s Rolo?” Keith asks, voice low, looking around.

Blood turns to ice in his veins, and Lance is about to shout out that he knew it when Rolo and Nyma appear in the crowd, walking towards them. Okay, so he didn’t run off with their cash. Doesn’t mean he’s not bad news. He strolls right up to Keith, and then smiles, pushing the money into his gloved hands. “Great racing,” Rolo compliments, clapping him on the shoulder. “Always a pleasure when you’re involved.”

Keith grimaces. “Thanks.”

Okay, another thing that pisses him off. They just lost thirty grand to him. That is money they needed. But part of his mind is still focused on the two mystery drivers who ran off in the middle of the race. He doesn’t snap out of it until he feels Nyma at his side, running her soft, pale fingers down his arm. “What a shame,” she frowns. “But there’s always next time.” Her fingers leave him, and she turns around, walking back into the crowd.

Rolo stays only a moment longer to cross his arms, smile, and make one final comment. “Watch your backs.”

And to Lance, that sounds more like a threat than a friendly warning.


	2. Down the Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just somewhat of a transition chapter to set everything up for what's coming next - Allura and Voltron

He really wishes he could get mad at Keith again, but he can’t. He can’t stop thinking about what Rolo said, and wondering why the other drivers pulled out before the end of the race. He can’t even focus on the fact that he’s out ten grand, even though he really should. He should be focusing on finding another race – one without Keith – to win it back. But he keeps remembering Rolo’s smile, keeps remembering what happened to that guy at the first pass of his he’d gone to. Pidge apparently saw them back off, so it’s not like they crashed, and he would have heard if they did anyway. They did it of their own volition, like losing out on ten thousand a piece wasn’t worth sticking around for.

He throws his arm over his eyes and breathes out a shaky breath. He’s not even disappointed about not bringing Nyma home, like he usually is. He’s just…scared.

He realizes that in this line of work, there are occupational hazards. It’s not like Driving Ms. Daisy. It’s dangerous, and cruel, and that excites him to some degree. But there is a line. It’s a very fine line, between excitement and fear. Fine enough that he wasn’t able to sleep when he got home last night, is still up even though it’s mid-day now. His room is dark regardless, because of his dark blue blackout curtains, but the clock on his phone reads one-fifteen PM. No one has tried to contact him since they all parted ways, which also puts him a little on edge, but he can’t bring himself to reach out first. So he turns on his TV and flips through channels for a while, past the telenovelas and sitcoms, until he finally stops on some movie. He doesn’t know what it is, but it looks funny and he could use some distraction.

This only lasts for about ten minutes before he’s so agitated he flips right to the news, eyebrows furrowed, wondering if there’s anything there to give him any clues. But the only news even remotely related to the underground has to do with a drug ring, not street-racing. He turns the TV off and throws the remote somewhere to the side. Maybe if he lies still in the dark long enough he’ll fall asleep.

* * *

 

Pidge Gunderson graduated high school early, to no one’s surprise. A year and a half early, to be precise, and it would have been even sooner had it not been for their brother and father’s untimely disappearance. After it happened, they spent every waking moment looking for clues, searching for answers, but none ever came. They kept hitting dead-ends, ending up with nothing but more questions. Kept finding things about Shirogane Takashi, a person they’d never heard of. But when they turned seventeen, they finally got fed up with that, with never knowing what happened, lost in the dark. It absolutely killed them to not know the answers to problems, and this had to do with their family. It turned into an obsession.

So they decided to go out on a couple of limbs, and ended up meeting Lance Sanchez.

Lance was twenty-one when they met, a little over a year ago, and Pidge could not figure him out for the life of them. He was thirty different things all at once, hiding behind feigned confidence and overblown cockiness. He flirted with anyone and everyone, though he rarely ended up getting anywhere with anybody, and Pidge thinks it might have been more to do with him not wanting to be with someone to begin with. Like he did it all for appearance’s sake, no matter what he told himself. Then they learned about Lance’s situation, his family living back in Miami after his first ten years in Cuba. They still don’t know how or why he ended up in California, not when he misses his mother so much, but Lance isn’t too keen on talking about it.

Through Lance, they met Hunk. Hunk was no less of an anxious mess then as he is now, constantly jumpy about the police showing up once they started racing together, even though Pidge constantly assured him they wouldn’t, not with Pidge’s equipment. But he still always freaked out. Hunk had already been with Shay for years by the time they met, but Lance assured them that he had been just as jittery about getting with her as he always was about the threat of jail time.

About a month after they met Hunk, Lance introduced them to their first race. The entire reason they had met was because of Pidge’s interest in the underground, but it took Lance a little time to really trust them. Hunk was a part of it, too, and immediately he learned about Keith Kogane.

Lance has never been quiet about his distaste for the guy, and while Pidge didn’t know any of them when The Incident occurred, they have seen the way he acts when they’re around each other. Apparently The Incident happened so long ago that no one can even remember what it is, but there’s no one more confused than Keith himself, and that’s easy to see. It’s also pretty obvious that Keith just wants to be civil with Lance, maybe even more, but there’s something in their friend’s mind that keeps them fighting. Pidge really wishes Lance would just get over it already. It makes passes difficult and irritating at best.

Over the year they’ve known each other, Pidge still hasn’t made any leeway when it comes to finding out about their sibling and father. But they’re close. They can feel it.

* * *

 

Shay usually falls asleep before him, her dark hair feathered out on the pillow beside him, her breath slow and even. She’s always pretty, he thinks, but it’s times like these that really strike him. Looking at her serves to calm him, even when he’d otherwise panic.

But anxiety swirls around in his gut, for the same reason as Lance. After Rolo had left the pass last night, he had lost all will to fight Keith, which is unusual in and of itself. It makes Hunk wonder if there’s something else worrying him, something he’s not saying. The situation is worrisome to begin with, though. Hunk does _not_ like Rolo. Not even a little bit. He hasn’t since the beginning. And he remembers the way Lance froze up in his grip last night. He doesn’t think anyone else realizes Lance is actually pretty fragile. He gets worried easily, maybe almost as easily as Hunk himself, but he hides it all. Keeps all of his worries and fears inside. Maybe he thinks it’ll make him look tougher or something.

Next to him, Shay mumbles something in her sleep and turns over, but just like last night, Hunk is too worried to settle down. It took hours before he was able to find sleep yesterday, almost until daylight, and now it’s nearing two AM. His phone’s brightness is turned all the way down as he scrolls and scrolls through different news sites, but it still kind of hurts his eyes. Maybe because he’s been doing it for four hours now.

But then he ends up on a forum, after getting to the sixth page of a Google search in pure desperation. It’s obviously not professional, not organized in the slightest. But Rolo’s name catches his eye. Hunk would like to believe that the guy doesn’t know about this, that he’s not an admin or poster or anything like that, because none of it is positive. He swipes his finger up against the touchscreen, reading and reading, when he stops. The username Zal_Ra, an admin, keeps appearing and disappearing throughout, giving weird messages that seemingly make no sense, that maybe sound like directions and ill-will, and other people respond to them in a rather unified manner. Everything in the forum just feels…off. Like you have to read between the lines to really understand what’s going on. Like it’s all in code, almost. Everyone there can understand but the outsiders can’t.

Quietly, he climbs out of bed, careful not to disturb Shay, and tiptoes out of the bedroom. He walks into the living room, and then taps Pidge’s contact, listening to the dial tone as he waits for them to pick up.

Unsurprisingly, Pidge doesn’t sound sleepy or interrupted in the least. Hunk doesn’t know if they ever sleep. “ _What’s up?_ ” They ask conversationally, as if it’s not two in the morning.

“So, I found this forum…”

“ _Go on…_ ”

“Everything on it’s all jumbled, but Rolo’s name popped up a couple times. And the word Voltron? And something about a confrontation, maybe? Like, about a gang war or a racing war or…I don’t know…A lot of the posts are confusing at best; it’s all so heavily coded that I can’t understand it.”

“ _Text me the link,_ ” they return, almost off-handedly. Hunk wonders if Pidge really was doing something else when he called. “ _How’d you find it?_ ”

“I was just combing through Google, honestly. Found it on the sixth page.”

“ _Wow. Desperate._ ”

“Anxious,” he shrugs, even though Pidge can’t see him.

“ _Alright, well, I’ll look it over tonight. Do you want me to text you if I find anything or do you think you’ll get any sleep tonight?_ ”

He glances at the clock on the wall. “Just…text me.”

“ _Got it. Talk to you later, Hunk._ ”

He hangs up and immediately walks over to the couch, flipping on his PlayStation. Yeah. He’s definitely not getting to sleep tonight.

* * *

 

The garage is an old thing, built in the fifties, but Lance would say it’s pretty well-kept. Sure, paint is peeling off a few of the walls, and the fans overhead sometimes creak while they’re on high, but besides that, their equipment is pretty new and in good condition. The money they earn from the races has really helped out a lot over the years. Sure, sometimes they lose money, like the other night, but most of the time they’re bringing in quite a few cash dollars.

His Lancer EVO X is parked in the far-most right spot, lifted about two feet off the ground, shining a bright cobalt blue in the sunlight that pours in through the open garage doors. He runs a hand against her frame, feeling the warmth that the fiberglass has picked up from the harsh California sun, and he’s lost in his daydreams when he hears a car pull up.

A yellow Dodge Challenger. Hunk pulls his car into the spot next to Lance, and then turns off the car before climbing out and smiling at him. “Hey, man.”

Lance holds up a fist to Hunk, who taps it with his own. “ _Hola._ What’s up?”

“Is Pidge here yet?”

“No, I thought they weren’t coming today?”

“Ah, no –” Hunk starts, clearing his throat. “I may have found something on an online forum last night. I’ve been waiting to hear back from them, but they just told me to meet them here. I guess it would be easier to talk to both of us at once, anyway.”

Lance frowns and crosses his arms. “About?”

“About…all of the weird shit going down. Maybe about Rolo, I don’t know. Honestly, it’s all really odd. Encrypted messages, some kind of uniformity to answers, almost like a…hive-mind?”

“So…you think the Borg is causing all of this?” Lance deadpans.

Hunk rolls his eyes despite his apprehension. “Obviously not. I just mean, it’s like…maybe like recruits and their drill instructor or…soldiers and their superior officer or captain or something. Like I said, it’s all totally uniform, even though it makes no sense.”

Lance purses his lips, furrows his eyebrows. “So…what? Could it be some kind of cult gathering or something? Or an…online…gang? Does that happen?” He pauses. “What if it’s all just some big joke? A meme or something? Like /b/ on 4chan level meme. _What if this is 4chan’s second uprising?_ ” He can’t live through that website a second time. He doesn’t have the mental strength.

“Lance, seriously.” Hunk throws his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what it is. That’s why we’re waiting on Pidge. I’m guessing they found something.”

His friend is obviously worried, and Lance totally understands why; he’s just trying to avoid it with humor for his friend’s sake. Maybe his own, too. Hunk gets anxious when absolutely nothing is wrong, but it’s on an entirely different level when actual shit is going down. Lance is just surprised he hasn’t thrown up yet. “Maybe…maybe we’re reading into all of this too much,” he tries, in an attempt to calm his best friend. “Maybe nothing is going on at all.”

Hunk looks at him, eyes wide. “Do you…really believe that?”

Lance has to look away. He stares at the dust particles as they float through the air, and then sucks in a breath. “No.” He’s been in this world for a long time, and when things feel this off – something is wrong. Contrary to popular belief, most of the time things go relatively smoothly, or predictably at the least. Not being able to explain something like this, Rolo’s cryptic comment…something is up. He’s not going to be able to hide behind humor forever, not with this shit.

Pidge’s Skyline pulls into the third and final spot in the garage. In the reflected light, it looks even brighter than it usually does. The engine stops rumbling, and then they climb out.

Pidge’s hair is unkempt – even more than usual – and they look worn out – again, more than usual. Their glasses are perched on the bridge of their nose, but they can’t hide the dark circles under their brown eyes. With a deep sigh, they stalk towards Lance and Hunk, and it takes a moment for them to speak even once they’re directly in front of them. When they’re ready to, they look up at their two friends.

“Don’t freak out,” they start. “But…this is probably really bad.”

Hunk immediately starts freaking out.

* * *

 

He’s out of breath. His chest burns as he heaves in and out, the night air like fire as it moves down his raw throat. Honestly, he’s scared. Really scared. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but it feels like forever. Months? Years? When he looked in a mirror he didn’t seem much older, but he was already twenty-seven when it all started. The only real difference he noticed was the ugly, jagged scar across his nose, and a shock of white hair where it used to be black.

He shakes his head as he runs, as if trying to clear his mind of the fear, and before he knows it, he’s at a familiar apartment complex. He looks all around him for trouble before bounding through the front doors and taking the steps two at a time all the way to the third floor. “319,” he murmurs, noting his shaky voice. “319.”

His fingers tremble, even the fake ones. He grips the prosthetic with the other hand before closing his eyes and taking one more deep breath. His footsteps echo down the hallway, and when he finally happens upon the right door, and raps his knuckles on it four times. No one answers. Maybe he’s not home? He knocks again. He needs him to answer.

“What?” Keith snarls, ripping the door open. “It’s like three in the fucking morning!” But then he pauses. He sucks in a breath, eyes widening, and his voice is weak and trembling when he asks, “Shiro?” Almost as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. And maybe he can’t. Everyone probably thought he was dead. He certainly hadn’t had high hopes when he was taken.

“Keith,” he rasps. His voice is raw, throat feels like it’s bleeding, but he knows it isn’t.

And then his little brother is wrapped around him in a tight hug, almost squeezing all of the little air he has left out of him. “Come inside,” Keith manages, swallowing. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little shorter just bc it's mostly background info. And I'm laughing bc I explained the forum thing to my cousin and he goes, "So...the Dollars from Durarara?" I'm like, "Well...fuck..." but it's still staying bc it's plot relevant.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I've been thinking about choosing a character's car every chapter and adding the details and performance specs at the bottom? If anyone would care about that? Just the actual make, model, any mods, transmission type, horsepower, and torque? I mean it's mostly irrelevant to the story but I did sit and work everything out for everyone's car so - would that be a thing anyone cared about?


	3. Halcyon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but the thought of gearhead Allura gives me chest pains. I'm just imagining her in a tank top and a shirt tied around her waist and a ponytail and grease on her hands - it's just...so attractive. End me.

She smirks, glancing in the rearview mirror. There is the distinct absence of flashing blue lights, which is less than shocking, but still pleasing. She finds it doesn’t matter if she’s topping one hundred on I-10 so long as she has police plates. Next to her, Coran rambles away about something, but she’s barely listening. She downshifts as she nears her exit, slowing just enough so that she doesn’t fly off the road while she speeds down the ramp, and makes a somewhat dangerous turn onto the throughway. Cars honk, but she doesn’t mind them, just swerves around traffic until she gets to the street she needs to be on. She slows, shifting all the way down into first as she glances around, looking for his house.

There, the little white one on the corner.

She pulls into the driveway, noticing that the garage door is open wide, and the very man she’s looking for is bent over the engine of his EVO. He turns when he hears the rumble of a well-tuned Porsche, and blue eyes widen, then narrow suspiciously. She supposes she would be concerned as well, if someone she didn’t know showed up at her house.

He wipes his dirty hands on his jeans, covering them in more oil than was already there, and then steps forward. He appraises her vehicle as she turns it off, eyes sweeping the curves of its snow-white frame, and whistles as she climbs out.

“I don’t know what’s more beautiful,” he starts, grinning at her. “Your Porsche, or you.”

Yes, she had heard about this. Lance Sanchez is fairly well-known in the street-racing world, if only for his…vibrant personality. “Charming,” she says instead, forcing a smile to her lips.

He doesn’t seem perturbed by her response in the least. “Get to it then, _Chica_. Who are you?”

“My name is Allura, and I need your help, Lance.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What? My help? Listen, you can’t just - what makes you think I’ll give you it? I don’t even know who you are, _Allura.”_

She tucks white-blonde hair behind her ear and glances over his house, then the car in his garage. “Because I can give you anything you desire in return.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, _really_?”

She nods. “You probably have not heard of me, because I do not wish for anyone to, but if you follow me, I will show you the life that I live, and perhaps you will change your mind.”

He still doesn’t seem convinced. “And why do you need _me_ in particular? I know I’m great, but-”

“You misunderstand,” she tells him. “You are simply one part of a much bigger picture. I need your friends as well.”

“Hunk and Pidge?”

She nods. “And Keith Kogane and Shirogane Takashi.”

“Wait, hold the phone! First of all, what do you need from an asshole like _Keith_? Second of all, Shirogane Takashi as in…Shiro? The driver? The one who disappeared?”

“The very one,” she assents. “But he has returned, and the five of you are needed for something that only you can do.” She pointedly avoids the topic of Keith. Another thing that she’s learned is that he is somewhat of a sore spot for Lance, though no one can figure out why. From what she’s heard, Keith is not a particularly bad person, just a little withdrawn, perhaps. And the loss of his brother was hard on him, as well. She wonders if Lance knows that little fact – probably not, from the way he responded.

“That guy’s my hero,” he mutters. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

The passenger door opens, and Coran stumbles out. “Now!” he begins, wagging a finger at Lance. “I’ll have you know, she is the own-”

“Coran, _please_ ,” she interrupts, holding a hand out to quiet him. “Will you trust me, Lance? Follow me in your vehicle to meet your companions, and then we will return to my home to discuss things further, while we are not in the presence of those who might overhear.”

He squints at her for a long moment, and then sighs. “Alright, Lady. Lead the way.” He gestures at her and then walks back to his car, slamming the hood down, grabbing his keys off of a shelf, and then climbing in.

She walks up to the EVO, then, and leans against the driver’s side door, waiting for him to roll down the window. “Oh, and,” she starts. “Don’t be alarmed by my plates. They’re there to keep law enforcement away, that’s all.” She claps a hand against the top of the door. “Try to keep up.” She walks back to her car and gets in before backing out of the driveway and starting on her way to the second driver’s residence.

“Princess,” Coran says later, as they enter deeper into the city, fiddling with his mustache. “Are you sure these five are the right choice? I’m sure there must be better drivers out there.”

“I don’t know,” she returns, idly, speeding through the streets mainly to see if Lance can keep up. He does. Effortlessly. “Maybe there aren’t. Regardless, these five are the only chance we’ve got.”

Once Lance seems to figure out where they’re headed, he swerves around her and pulls up alongside, shoots a finger gun at her, and then speeds ahead with a wink. She wonders if he really thinks he’d be able to outdrive a Porsche 911. She wonders if he actually could.

* * *

 

Allura is beautiful, for sure, but Lance has met tons of beautiful women at this point. And there’s something about her that just – it puts him on edge. He’s been doing this way too long, and if someone is offering you the world, that probably means they want the world from you, first. No one gives without taking. So she needs their help – help with what? She wasn’t even being vague, she just straight up didn’t tell him anything.

The other day, when Pidge showed up at the garage and explained what they thought about the forum was all about, Lance figured it was even worse than Pidge had tried to imply. A gang, they think, like he had joked about, and the members on this forum follow the admins completely – no matter what they’re told, it seems like they do it. The drug ring he’d seen on the news the day before that, Pidge is pretty sure it was one of theirs. Those mystery racers from their last pass, Pidge thinks they were part of this gang, too.

A gang who calls themselves the Galra. They’re relatively new to this area, but dangerous.

But if Allura’s serious about Shiro, about him surfacing again, then he doesn’t want to miss out on this.

He was somewhere around twenty when it happened. It wasn’t on the news, wasn’t in the papers – the only people who knew were the people like him. The people involved in shady shit like he was. Is, he supposes. But Shiro, this legend of a street racer, someone he’d never even seen at a pass, was suddenly gone. Completely. No one knew hide or hare of where he was, or how he disappeared. Most people believed he was dead – maybe he crashed somewhere and they never found the car. Maybe someone who had lost against him wanted revenge. Whatever it was, one day he was there, the talk of the underground, and the next day he wasn’t.

He was already racing by this point, of course; it sort of came with him when he left Miami. He started even younger than Pidge had, knew how to drive a stick shift by the time he was twelve and was introduced to street racing before he even had his license. Of course, he’s lost and regained his license several times over the years, following tickets and minor arrests, but it never stopped him. Cars are something he’s always loved, and he’s loved racing them even more. It only helped that he could get money from it to help his _mamá._ There was a lot of that kind of shit in Miami.

He met Hunk before he’d even left Florida. The guy wasn’t into racing then, just visiting, but once Lance caught sight of his dad’s car, there was no going back.

He still isn’t sure of how he convinced Hunk to help him steal it. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he dragged Hunk along against his will and brought his best friend into this life without any concern for his wishes. He probably did. But no matter how guilty he is about it, he knows Hunk loves it here. Even if he gets scared about the cops (even though he’s never even been arrested) or about other racers getting mad, he loves to drive. In fact, regardless of the fact that Lance shoved him into the passenger seat of his dad’s car that day, once they got to Tampa Hunk was switching into the driver’s seat of that old Camaro and cruising northeast towards Orlando.

Of course, by the time they got there it had been about five or six hours, and people were starting to realize that A.) they were gone, and B.) Hunk’s dad’s car was as well.

Now, his family already knew about his slight inclination towards law-breaking, especially when it had to do with cars. He was sixteen by this point, so they had been subject to his shit for years already. It still makes him feel a little bad, knows that his _mamá_  wonders where she went wrong, but he’s told her countless times that it wasn’t her fault. That she did the best she could and he’s just kind of a piece of shit. She never listens.

His black Razr phone had buzzed and buzzed for at least half an hour before he felt guilty enough to answer it. But eventually he did, and then from there on it was just a mess of Spanish, words flying this way and that, his _mamá_  yelling and crying and one of his brothers screaming in the background. “ _No ha sido tanto tiempo_ …” He had said, trying to calm her. “ _Sólamente un pocos de horas_ …”

“ _Pocos?_ Pocos? _Seis, mijo! Seis horas_!”

And then Hunk turned the car right around and they drove the four hours back home. It was nighttime by the time they got back, obviously, after midnight. Overall, they had taken ten hours, put around six hundred miles on the car, and they were both grounded for months.

But when Hunk and his family left Florida at the end of the summer, Lance left with them. Not _with_  them, really - Hunk’s family disliked him more than a little – but at the same time. He told his family he was going to California, and then he left.

He hated it. Still hates it. Still wishes he could go back. He misses his family more than anything, but he knows if he went back to Miami he would just be putting them in a bad situation. He thinks it’s safer for them if he stays on the other side of the country.

He pulls up to Hunk’s apartment and takes out his phone, shoots him a text to come outside. Parallel parking in front of the complex, he unfolds from his driver’s seat and leans against the EVO’s blue frame. The white Porsche parks behind him, and then Allura and the man with the orange mustache climb out. “I texted him and told him to come down,” he tells them.

“Thank you,” Allura nods. “That will make this easier.”

“You’re a good driver,” he comments. “You one of us?”

“Not exactly,” she smiles.

They quiet down for a moment. “So, uh, what’s under the hood of that thing?” Lance asks, conversationally, waiting for Hunk to either respond or show up. He hates silence.

“Twin-turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 24-valve flat-6 engine, aluminum block and heads, and direct fuel injection.”

A pause. “…You know your stuff.”

She shrugs. “It’s my passion.”

His phone buzzes, and he unlocks it to see the message from Hunk. “Oh, come on, man,” he sighs, shaking his head. He taps Hunk’s contact name and brings the phone up to his ear. “Come down here!” he hisses.

“ _Listen, Lance – I am in the middle of a campaign. You can’t just ask me to come downstairs for no reason!”_

“Hunk, my man, my dude. There is a really hot chick down here who really wants to meet you.”

_“I now want to come down even less._

“She’s offering us all our wildest desires.”

_“You’re making it harder on yourself._

“Listen, she, uh – she knows about Shiro. The ex-driver. She needs you, me, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro for…something big, I don’t know.”

_“So this random woman showed up at your house, said she needed help, and then you just left with her.”_

“…Something like that. But hey! She drives a Porsche, okay?”

_“Because that makes her trustworthy.”_

“Just…come down here, Hunk, okay? Please? You can play your game later. This is important.”

A long, suffering sigh. _“Alright, give me a few minutes. You’re lucky you have best friend privileges.”_

He pulls the phone away from his ear and looks over at Allura, who’s got an eyebrow raised. “He’s, uh…he’s on his way. You know, this would be a lot easier if you could just…tell me what it is you need. It’s real suspicious, the way you just show up and say you can give me whatever I want.”

“I’m aware,” she says, almost apologetically. “But it will be simpler to explain everything back at my home.”

He purses his lips and stares up at the too-blue California sky. “So, what’s the zero-to-sixty on that thing?”

“Three-point-two seconds,” she smiles back.

 When Hunk finally gets downstairs, Shay is with him. She looks at the both of them, then their cars, and grimaces a little. “What is going on?” She asks.

Lance raises an eyebrow at them. “She insisted,” Hunk shrugs.

Allura steps forward. “Shay, correct?” She holds a hand out to her, and Shay takes it. “My name is Allura. I assure you, you’ve nothing to worry about. Hunk is very important to my goal, and I will not allow any harm to come to him.”

“What is this about, though?” She cocks her head to the side, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her hoop earrings knocking against the side of her neck.

“It would be hard to explain here,” Allura frowns. “And I’m afraid you may not believe me if I tried. If you will trust me just long enough for us to meet the others and drive to Malibu, I will be eternally grateful.”

She must live in Malibu – that, coupled with the fact that she drives a Porsche around for errands, leads him to believe she very well may be as rich as she implies. It’s only about forty minutes away from LA, but the lifestyle there is a lot less diverse. Most of the property there is insanely priced.

Hunk looks down at Shay. “What do you think?” He asks her.

“I think she drives a very nice car,” Shay returns with a small smile. “Let us see what she has to offer.”

Hunk nods, a little shaky, and fidgets. “Alright, I’ll get the car from the lot. Where are we going next?”

“Your friend Pidge,” Allura says. She turns to Lance. And then, referring to Hunk: “He will be able to keep up as well, correct?”

Lance laughs. “You think he’d be in a race with me if he couldn’t?”

“Good point,” she grins. “We shall wait for him to retrieve his car, and then we will be off.”

“I’m just saying,” Hunk murmurs to him, then. “It’s gonna be impossible to convince Pidge.”

* * *

 “I’m in,” Pidge nods. Hunk gapes behind them. They look to Allura. “You’ll get me to Shirogane, correct?” They wring their hands. “I think he might be able to tell me something about my father and brother.”

Lance understands immediately – Pidge has made it known more than a couple times that they’re only here to find their family. “Yes,” she nods. “And while you’re with me you will have access to whatever you need to help you find them.”

“Whatever?” They ask, eyes widening.

“Anything. Any equipment you need, any help – just ask, and it shall be yours.”

“I’m _really_  in,” Pidge says then, nodding quickly. “Come on, let’s go get Keith and Shiro.”

* * *

 Keith’s apartment complex is fairly nondescript. Lance isn’t sure of what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. He pulls into the parking lot, behind Hunk’s Challenger but in front of the Porsche and Skyline, and parks in one of the few empty parking spots. The Mustang is bright and easily visible a few spots down. “I’ll wait here with the car,” Allura says. Lance finds this mildly suspicious, but assumes she’s perhaps heard of what an asshole Keith is. He doesn’t comment on it.

“Yeah, uh,” Hunk says, “I’ll stay here, too, with Shay.”

“Alright, Pidge,” Lance nods. “Looks like it’s just you, then.”

“I don’t think so,” they snark, shaking their head and grabbing Lance by the wrist. “You’re coming with me.”

“What? But I don’t want to!”

“I’m not going by myself, Lance!”

“Ugh, _fine_! But don’t expect me to be nice!”

“I never do,” they sigh.

His apartment is apparently on the third floor, so they wait for the elevator and make their way up, Lance sighing constantly as they go. Maybe Pidge will get irritated by him and make him go wait by the cars if he’s too annoying. But no such luck. They get to his apartment with Pidge only slightly murderous.

Lance rings the doorbell. And then to be an asshole, rings it four more times.

“Lance, stop!” Pidge groans, smacking his arm away.

“You brought me here! You did this!” He whispers back harshly. “Now you pay the consequences!”

The door opens while they’re still bickering, but Lance doesn’t notice until he hears someone clear their throat. Blinking, he looks up.

Okay, so he’s a solid twenty-two years old. He hit puberty a good ten years ago, and he’s been extremely aware of his bisexuality ever since he understood the term. But apparently there exists a man in this world so attractive that Lance could very well consider throwing away every last shred of heterosexuality for him, and he’s very shirtless and very wet and in the doorway. He must have just gotten out of the shower, whoever he is.

Seriously, if Keith is fucking this guy, Lance is gonna be pissed. He’s…just too attractive. Like, on an entirely differently level of hotness. “May I ask…who you are?” The mystery man inquires. Damn, even his voice is nice.

Lance tries to make words come out, but he’s a little more focused on the naked torso in front of him. Instead, Pidge answers. Pidge to the rescue again. “I’m Pidge, and this is Lance. You’re…Shiro, right? You look a little different from your pictures online.”

Shiro looks very guarded, but nods anyway. “Time is harsh.”

Pidge nods, looking a little sympathetic. “I – have you…” they pause, and then start up again. Lance lets them go on uninterrupted. They deserve some answers. “Have you ever met someone named Matt Holt? Or Sam Holt?”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “…You…you’re Katie, aren’t you? Matt’s sister. You look just like him.”

Immediately, Lance cringes. And he’s not even the one who got dead-named. But Pidge looks more emotional about the news that Shiro knows their family than anything else. “Um – Pidge,” they say a little weakly. “Not Katie, _please_. I’m – uh – I’m agender.” Shiro seems a little embarrassed, but Pidge goes on. “But you knew them, then? Are they okay? Where are they?”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says, shaking his head. Little bits of water from his tuft of white hair roll down his forehead and cheekbones. “I haven’t seen them in years. They got taken at the same time as me.”

“Taken?” Pidge asks, confused, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you me-”

“Who’s there, Shiro?” Keith calls from somewhere behind him. Immediately, Lance bristles. Shiro moves a little, and the violet-eyed man pops up from his other side. He looks a little surprised to see them, not that Lance is shocked. “Lance…” he starts. He notices Pidge as well. “What’s going on?”

Okay, well, good news is that Keith is not shirtless and wet, which means they didn’t shower together, and probably aren’t sleeping together. If anyone did get the fantastic chance to sleep with Shiro, they probably wouldn’t miss out on a shower. Lance doesn’t know why he feels so relieved, honestly. Maybe just because he can’t stand the thought of Keith bagging someone hotter than him.

Hotter than someone he could sleep with!

Not him.

Lance does not want Keith to sleep with him. Lance does not want to see him shirtless and wet out of the shower, either. Definitely.

Probably.

He’s still pissed about the race thing anyway. (He’s not. It’s been days. He’s over it already. He just wishes he wasn’t.)

“There’s someone downstairs who wants to meet you two,” Pidge says. They still look a little anxious. They obviously want to talk more about their family, but they’re putting it to the side for now.

Shiro’s eyebrows furrow. “Who?”

“Her name is Allura and she’s super rich and super hot and super needs our help,” Lance finally manages out. It’s the first thing he’s said since Shiro opened the door, and honestly he can’t even be sure it was out all in English considered how scrambled his brain feels between thinking of Shiro naked and thinking of Keith naked. Against his will.

“Okay…” Shiro says, obviously still confused. “Help with what?”

“We don’t know…” Pidge admits. “But…you’ll probably want to talk to her.”

“Why?” Keith asks.

Lance gets a grip on his tongue and says, “Because she can give you anything you want. That’s what she says, anyway.”

Shiro and Keith look at each other for a moment, and then Shiro looks back at them. “I’ll get dressed and be down in a moment. Keith, go on without me.”

Keith nods and walks out into the hallway. Lance glares at him the entire time, but the guy doesn’t even seem to notice. Or he doesn’t care. Either way, he doesn’t react at all. “So,” Pidge starts, smirking. “You and Shiro, huh?”

Keith raises at eyebrow at them, and then realization dawns on his face. Along with a lot of red. “He-he’s my brother!” He sputters, obviously embarrassed. Lance is loath to note that Keith looks fucking beautiful with a blush on his cheeks.

“Brother?” Pidge asks, grin dropping. “You have different last names.”

“Adoptive brother,” he amends, still flushed. “Since I was fourteen.”

“Oh,” Pidge nods. Lance knows they understand something about losing family, so maybe there’s some comradery there.

Pidge leads the way back to the elevator, and Lance follows behind, keeping his mouth shut to try and remain civil. He’s sure that if he tries to talk to Keith, Pidge will get upset with whatever dick thing he says.

He knows deep down that Keith isn’t that bad of a person, but there’s just something about him that sets Lance off – maybe it’s jealousy, or maybe it’s true irritation, but either way, when Keith is around him he can’t seem to calm down. He’s always ready for a fight, heart beating fast and fingers trembling. He likes getting a rise out of him.

Lance has always been a little rash, though, and there are some things he can’t handle.

Maybe Keith really did have a reason for being upset at the race the other night. If Shiro is his brother…that means he probably thought he was dead, like the rest of the underground did. Maybe racing just made him think of his brother. If that was the case, though, why would he still do it?

“Hey,” Keith whispers to him as they wait for the elevator. Lance looks over at him, trying to be nice despite what he said to Pidge earlier. If they’re going to be working together for something, maybe he should try not being so hostile. Try, anyway. “Are you okay, man? I’ve never seen you this quiet. You haven’t tried to bite my head off even once.”

Lance sneers at him. “I can be nice when I want to be.”

Keith raises an eyebrow at him. “Uh huh,” he says, seemingly unconvinced. Pidge snorts, too.

“I can!” He insists. “Ask Hunk! He’s my best friend! I’m nice to him all the time!”

“Lance, you thought it would be funny to Saran-wrap all of his doorways so he’d run into them,” Pidge intones.

“It _was_  funny.”

Pidge sighs and almost audibly rolls their eyes. If that were possible. “You almost gave him a heart attack because you told him his water was infected with Dihydrogen Monoxide.”

“He’s an engineer! He should have gotten that!”

“Alright, what about the time you filled the cisterns of his toilets with bubble bath?” Pidge asks. Lance snickers. “Or the time you covered all of his eating utensils with Vaseline?”

“How _old_ are you?” Keith asks, incredulous.

“I can’t help it that I’m a comedic genius,” Lance says proudly. “Besides, those were all harmless. He’s my best friend! I wouldn’t do anything dangerous or purposefully mean!”

Pidge shakes their head as the elevator gets to the ground floor and they walk out. When the three of them reach the parking lot, Pidge yells, “Hunk! Has Lance ever been nice to you?!”

“Not that I can remember!” Hunk yells back.

“ _Hunk_!” Lance whines, running towards him. “I thought we were brothers. Husbands. Besties.”

“You made me stop my campaign!”

Lance just pouts.

“Where’s Shiro?” Allura asks as they all near.

“He’s getting dressed,” Keith offers. “He’ll be down in a minute.”

“Alright,” she nods, agreeably. “After this we will head back to my home on Broad Beach. Just follow me, and when we get there save the location in your GPS.”

Keith nods, and then frowns. “I hope Shiro remembered to grab my car keys and lock the door…”

“Yeah, you won’t get far without those,” Lance snickers. “Unless you wanna hotwire your car as well?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I could if I wanted to.”

“Of course you could,” he returns with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. “So could I!”

“Calm down,” Allura says, presumably before an argument can start. “Look Shiro’s…” She blinks wildly as Shiro exits the apartment building, watching as he walks towards them.

“Yeah, I know,” Lance nods, settling somewhat. “Real talk: if I had a brother who looked like that I’d be in church 24/7.” Keith shoots him a dirty look, but Pidge and Hunk just laugh. When he’s close enough, Shiro tosses his younger brother the keys, and Keith nods.

“Alright, then,” Allura starts up again, clearing her throat. “Follow me. It shouldn’t take too long for the four of you.”

Five, including Shiro, but Lance notices that he’s going with Keith. So maybe he’s not driving?

Nevertheless, he walks to his car, gets in, and starts it.

Once they get moving, Allura never drops below twenty-five miles per hour over the speed-limit. He thinks it would be fun to race her for real, but he has no idea of where he’s going, so he settles for keeping up. It seems to be that way for the rest of the group as well.

* * *

“Okay, what the fuck is this?” Lance asks, moving slowly behind the Porsche as it drives up to huge, wrought-iron gates. “There’s no way she fucking lives here…” But then the gates slowly open and Lance finds himself driving forward, following them down the driveway.

The first thing he notices is all the goddamn foliage. It looks like a tropical fucking paradise, and it’s just the driveway. Engines rumble as they go, and he looks all around to take in as much of the area as he can. He wonders if the others are just as awe-inspired as he is.

The second thing he notices is the large white garage in front of them. It’s gigantic, at least two of the one they run, and one of the four large doors open as Allura gets near it. The Porsche pulls under the door and the lights flicker on inside.

Suddenly, he’s scared. He counts one, two, three, four, other white super cars in the garage, and they easily clock in at over a million dollars altogether. Who the fuck is this woman? She’s fucking loaded. And she wants their help? What is she, a drug lord? Are they working for Scarface now? Fuck.

Allura pulls in next to the Ferrari Spider and turns off the car. She climbs out, and then gestures for him to park next to her, and then the rest of them in front of her other cars. With shaky breaths he puts his EVO in neutral, turns it off, and gets out. The others look just as concerned as he does.

“So then,” Keith starts. “Which cartel do you run?”

Allura laughs lightly and shakes her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. Follow me, please.” The man with the bright orange hair and mustache scurries forward. He whispers something to Allura, but Lance can’t hear what it is.

“Pidge, were you able to find anything on her?” Lance asks, voice low as they walk towards the back of the garage.

“I think so. Maybe. I’ll tell you later,” they whisper back.

“Do you think she’s dangerous?” Hunk asks, sounding worried. “What if she’s worse than Rolo? Oh god, what if Rolo works for her? Is this what he meant? Is Allura what we should watch our backs about?” Shay laces their fingers together and he glances down at her. Lance has always been a little jealous of what they have, but he’s genuinely happy for his friend.

“Don’t panic,” Shiro intones then, settling a hand on Hunk’s other shoulder.

They exit the garage and walk into the main courtyard. It’s wide-open and impeccably taken care of. Two stone lions sit at the entrance to the house, and Lance side steps the large fountain in order to get up to them. He runs his fingers against the smooth concrete of one of the manes as Allura unlocks the door. She disables the alarm with her phone, and then gestures to let them in.

The interior is like couture beach house meets modern millionaire. There’s a lot of white, just like her cars, and there are probably more windows than walls, looking out over the beach and ocean. He can just barely catch a glimpse of a tennis court as she leads them throughout the house. All of the furniture looks like it maybe came out of an expensive Martha Stewart catalogue, but it all fits together very nicely. He’s never been in a house like this, and he feels a little nervous. He’s almost positive the painting on the wall next to him is worth more than his car and all of its mods.

They end up in the kitchen, and it almost doesn’t fit with the rest of the house, but it’s still nice. Everything looks almost industrial-level, with lots of silver and tiled floors. An orchid sits on the windowsill of another picturesque view of the ocean.

“What’s the mortgage on a place like this?” Lance asks, running his fingers against the marble countertop of the island.

“I wouldn’t know,” she answers, opening the fridge. “I paid it all in full. Would any of you like anything to drink?”

In full. She paid for this entire house. In full. “How much is that?” He asks, almost scared to hear the answer.

“Lance,” Shiro chides. “That’s a rude question.”

“It’s fine, Shiro,” Allura laughs. “I believe the market price was at about thirty million dollars American when we bought it, Coran?”

He wheezes. Thirty million. She paid for this thirty million dollar house in full. No mortgage. No nothing. She owns this thing outright. “Thirty-three, Princess. But they marked it down to twenty-nine for us.”

“How…how kind of them,” Lance says, looking away. “Wait.” He whips his head back around. “ _Princess_?”

“Coran,” Allura chastises. “I told you not to call me that around them.”

“My apologies.”

She sighs. “It’s fine, I suppose.” She pulls a sparkling water out from the fridge and then closes it before walking over to the island and sitting primly on one of the chairs there. “I am not truly a princess,” she says. “I am not a part of any royal family. But my father was the king of his people in much the same way.”

“A mafia boss,” Pidge offers, and Lance’s head snaps in their direction, and then back to Allura.

“Not quite,” she returns. “I can see why you might believe that, but it’s untrue. Rumors flew all over the place after his death, and that was one of the many.”

“He died in a gang war,” Pidge tells her, as if combatting what she’s saying.

“It was not a gang war,” she sniffs. “He was the owner of a company and a rival…took him out…”

“Alright, but what I want to know is what his daughter wants with us,” Pidge says. “The company still exists, right? Altean Engines. You run it.”

“I did take over after my father’s death, yes.”

That explains how she has so much money, then.

“So explain,” Keith says, crossing his arms. Lance pointedly does not notice how good they look in his black muscle shirt. “You heard them. What do you want with us?”

She sips her water and looks out of the huge windows overlooking the ocean. The waves lap against the beachy coast, and the sun is high in the sky. It’s beautiful, honestly, but it’s not what Lance wants to focus on. This woman, Allura – there’s something…different about her. He doesn’t know where to put his finger on it, but…she’s just different.

“When I was a child,” she starts, eyes still on the water. “My father owned a racetrack. He would bring me out to it, and I would watch all day long as the cars spun ovals on the blacktop. By the time I was ten, I could take an inline engine completely apart and bring it back together. By the time I was thirteen, I could do that with a V-Type engine, too. And by the time I had my license I was on the track, driving. My father never just wanted me to run the company – he wanted me to love it. And I did. I do.”

“So, what?” Lance scoffs. “You want us to join your little NASCAR team?”

She laughs. “Even if I thought you would agree to that, no. You see, what I didn’t know, until right before he died, was that he owned…other types of racing teams as well. It wasn’t a gang war, Pidge, and he wasn’t a mafia boss, but…the company did cover up an entire network of drivers who, had they been caught, would have been subject to the law. But they left with him. Everyone did. The Galra leave nothing behind.”

Lance looks over to Pidge, confused, only to notice that everyone else is just as concerned as he is. “The Galra,” Shiro starts. “They killed your father?”

“Yes,” she nods. “They tried to take down the entire company.”

“And they’re here to kill you, too?” Lance asks.

“What?” She returns, eyes wide. “Here? In America?’

“Oh god,” Hunk murmurs. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“I – I, _no_. I did not believe they were.”

“Think again, _Princess_ ,” Pidge says, whipping out their phone. “They’re here. They were at a race with us a few days ago.” They bring up what Lance assumes to be the forum page and shows it to her. “I spent hours decoding this website. Tell me, what do you know about Voltron?”

She looks up at them. “Voltron,” she says. “Why, you five are Voltron.”

“ _What_?” At least three of the five of them yelp.

“That is why I brought you here. Back home, my father’s closest confidants and team were labeled Voltron. They ran everything for him that was…less than scrupulous.”

“So you don’t want us to be your NASCAR team, you want us to be your little band of thieves,” Keith grumbles.

“I merely wish for a…mutually beneficial relationship with five precision drivers whom I can trust. There are so many in your…work…who cannot be trusted as far as they can be thrown. But you five are special, and you’re fantastic drivers.” She takes another sip of her water, and then sighs. “But I cannot keep you here by force. Just know that if you join me, you will never want for anything. You will have borderline immunity from the police force, and more money than you know what to do with.”

“You just want us to run jobs for you in return,” Shiro finishes.

She nods in careful assent. “Yes. And you must live here with me.” Lance isn’t sure of how he feels about this. Honestly, it seems great – all of the money in the world and a dope place to live. But it also feels a little like being someone’s dog. He doesn’t like having to answer to other people. He has major problems with authority. “Also…if there is ever anything you do not feel comfortable doing, I will not make you do it. Most of the time you will be doing things individually, or in twos; rarely will there be a time where I need all five of you at the same time. So if someone does not feel like they can complete a task, it will be delegated elsewhere.”

“But we’d have to give up our homes,” Shay frowns. “We’d have to leave everything behind.”

“You can keep your homes; I’ll take care of any bills related to them. You don’t need to worry about rent or utilities. I will keep everything running for whenever you need to return. I merely ask that you spend the majority of your time here in the case that you are needed for something. But you can return to your things any time you’d like, and you are free to bring whatever you need here. There is ample room.”

“What’s the square-footage on this place?” Keith asks.

“Somewhere around eleven-thousand. There are seven bedrooms and ten bathrooms as well, so everyone will have their own space.”

“ _Seven_  bedrooms,” Lance mutters. “And god, who needs ten bathrooms in one fuckin’ house?”

“Why don’t we have a trial run? After that you can make your final decision. Your first task will be to help one of our own.” Allura smiles. Everyone looks at her, silent, waiting. “Shiro, your Trans Am. You haven’t seen it in years, correct?”

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, I assumed they sold it or scrapped it for parts.”

She sets her water down and stands, walking over to the window. “I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that. The one’s who took you most likely kept it as a trophy. They usually do.”

“And you know where it is now?”

She shakes her head, but smiles again. “No, but we will find out. It will take courage, but I can outfit you with anything you need. Anything for your cars, any weapons, tech, anything.”

Lance starts bouncing in his seat. Honestly, he’s never done anything like this – he’s always just raced. But there’s something about this that’s a lot more exciting than a pass. And he can set aside his worries for later. “I’m down,” he nods.

“Me, too,” Keith agrees. “That’s Shiro’s car. Nothing else can measure up.”

“It was a nice car,” Shiro agrees with a nod, almost dreamily.

“Is it going to be dangerous?” Hunk asks. “You said weapons. Oh god, am I going to have to kill someone?”

“No, no,” Allura says, holding her hands out in a placating gesture. “It would be just in case. In fact, I ask that you _keep from_ killing anyone. That makes things a lot messier than they need to be.”

“I’m in, too, but as soon as we get back I’ll need to get back to searching for my family,” Pidge says.

“Of course,” Allura nods. “Is that all, then? Do I have your help?”

Everyone nods, although Hunk seems a little more nervous, even with Shay there. “Yeah,” they say in unison.

“Alright!” She claps. “Now, here’s the plan…”

* * *

 Keith’s 2013 Ford Mustang GT

 **Color:** Cherry Red 

 **Mods** : Hood scoop for forced air injection, open exhaust for extra horsepower (but it really is bad for the environment, Keith), stick-stoppers, and a supercharger (hence the title).

 **Transmission type:** TREMEC® 6-speed

 **Performance Specs** : HP at 6500 RPMs – 600/ Torque at 4200 RPMs – 400 lb-ft

His Mustang does have higher horsepower and torque than most GTs, but that’s mostly because of the mods. When you look up stock specs, they’re a decent amount lower. 600 horsepower is really intense for a mustang lmao 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time Keith gets a turn by taking over all of chapter four, and things get a little gay. Also, Allura's house is based off of a real house in Malibu - the only difference is that I gave it one extra bedroom and added some tiny details. It really does have ten bathrooms, which blows my mind.
> 
> It'll be uploaded on Friday most likely, and then I'll start with a Monday-Friday schedule.


	4. Borderline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to upload it a day early bc I'm super ahead and why the fuck not?

He’d like to state for the record that he is not in love with Lance. Really, he’s not. Lance is kind of an asshole. But he does have nice blue eyes, and the prettiest shade of skin Keith has ever seen, and legs for absolute _days_. So, Keith would say he’s attracted to Lance, but he’s not in love with him. And he can work with that.

But it’s always been a little difficult for him, because Lance seems to be attracted to nearly everyone _but_ him.

He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with him? It’s not like he’s ever had a shortage of people who want to sleep with him. But Lance, someone who’s always into _everyone_ , never wants anything to do with him. And it’s not for lack of trying. Keith has always been nothing but civil with him. Well, sometimes when Lance gets in his face he rises to the bait, but for the most part, he just wants Lance to chill the fuck out. To some degree, he wants to get to know him. He isn’t sure of why – maybe because Lance is so adamant about keeping him away.

Shiro being taken wasn’t the first time he was left alone, but it was the most painful. He lost his parents when he was eleven, but somehow losing Shiro was even worse. It’s probably because his parents were really shitty, but his older brother is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Before Shiro, he didn’t even _know_ what it was like to have a decent parental figure, even if they are technically just brothers. But Shiro would give his life up for Keith, and even if he isn’t sure of why, he still appreciates it and loves him all the more.

Lance, from what he’s heard from Pidge and Hunk, had a huge family back in Miami, but left them. Sometimes it drives Keith crazy to think about it – why would anyone _leave_ their family? – but Lance apparently misses them like crazy, so it’s probably some hero complex.

He wants to find out. He _curious_ , and he doesn’t know why. He should just hate Lance and get it over with; the guy has never done anything to him to make him think he wants anything to do with him. It’s ridiculous.

So it ends up being that he’s attracted to him _and_ interested in him, which ends up with a lot of very conflicting feelings considering Lance has a tendency to be such a dick to him.

“Alright! Now here’s the plan,” Allura starts. “Getting in with the Galrans is going to be difficult. Shiro obviously won’t be able to do it because they’ll recognize him, but you other four should be relatively unknown to them appearance wise since they’re new to this area. They may have heard about your vehicles, though, so you’ll have to use mine. Two of you will enter one of their races to get in close, and the other two will run surveillance and backup. We’ll have to catch wind of when their next pass is, and work off of that. In the meantime – Lance, Keith, pick a car and get used to it. Every car drives a little different, and most of mine have seven speed transmissions.”

“I only drive my Mustang,” Keith says, eyes narrowing. That car is his life. He knows it better than he knows himself. In it, he feels like he can do anything.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Allura says, and admittedly she does sound apologetic. “But if you’re partial to American made cars, you can drive the Corvette. We’ll give it whatever mods or paint jobs you’d like.”

“Oh, wasn’t there a Lambo? I call the Lambo!” Lance squawks, leaning forward. He holds his arm up high as if he’s waiting to get called on in class.

“Of course you do,” Pidge says, rolling their eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to drive a Lamborghini,” Lance says then, completely disregarding his friend. “Can we paint that one, too?”

“Whatever you like,” Allura smiles. “Pidge, Hunk, you’ll be outfitted with whatever you need for your behind-the-scenes work. I can probably get you equipment to hook up to some kind of satellite feed, if you can work the program to actually connect to it.”

“Of course I can,” Pidge says, huffing. They push their glasses up their nose further. “You just get me the tech, I’ll give you surveillance and interference.”

“Great,” Allura nods. “Shiro, I’ll ask that you stay with me for the time being. I’ll give you the run down on all of the work I’ll need from you five, and we can keep an ear out for the rest of Voltron in case they need anything during the seizure of your vehicle.”

He doesn’t like it, but if it’s what he has to do to get Shiro’s Trans Am back, he’ll do it. He’d do anything for Shiro – driving a brand new Stingray Corvette isn’t exactly a hardship, anyway, but it is flashy. That could be a problem. “Your cars will stick out a street race,” Keith says then. “A Corvette and a Lamborghini? Brand new ones, as well. You just don’t see those.”

“I suppose not,” she frowns. “I can buy you other cars then, if you like?” What is this? Carte blanche with the budget?

“No!” Lance snaps, crossing his arms and looking a little bit like a petulant child. “I want to drive the Lambo. It’ll be _fine_ , Mullet.” God he hates that nickname… “We’ll just look like a couple of Californian rich kids looking for some fun.”

He has a point, Keith supposes. “Fine.” Driving that Corvette will probably be a spiritual experience anyway.

“Come on,” Lance says to him then, standing. “It sucks that I have to spend extra time with you, but it’s worth it for the cars!”

“Hold on,” Allura says, laughing a little. “We’ll get to that. First, let me show you the house and your rooms.”

* * *

 

Keith has to admit – this is literally the nicest house he’s ever been in. Actually, the nicest house he ever will be in, and by a long shot. Like Lance, he can’t get over the extravagance of it all.

“There are two saunas, a wet and a dry one, both on the second floor. Each bedroom has a bathroom connected to it, and the other three are by the tennis court, the pool, and the indoor courtyard. You’re welcome to choose whatever room you like, but they’re all quite similar. You’re also free to bring whatever you like to decorate them if the furniture and décor is not up to your standards.” Somehow, Keith doubts it will be. The furniture in each room is probably worth more than a year of his rent and whatever he has inside his apartment. “The only difference in the bedrooms are the locations. Excluding my bedroom, three face the beach, and the other three, including Coran’s, face the outdoor courtyard.”

“I call the beach,” Lance snickers. Keith rolls his eyes. He honestly doesn’t care which room he gets. He’d like one closer to the exercise room, though, if he can help it. Not that he’ll say that out loud. There is an exercise room, right? In a house like this, there has to be.

He decides to ask. “Is there…I don’t know, like an exercise room or something?”

Allura looks over at him and smiles. “Three, actually. One of them is much smaller, and I use it for my yoga, the second one is weights, and the third is cardio.”

Okay, that’s something he can _definitely_ work with. He was tired of going to gyms anyway.

“Alright,” Lance nods. “But now for the real questions.” Everyone looks over at him. “You _do_ have a Hawaiian Punch fountain, right? Like in Mr. Deeds?”

“Hawaiian…Punch?” Allura asks. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Is it a traditional Hawaiian drink?”

Hunk guffaws, but Pidge answers. “He’s just being an idiot, don’t mind him. It’s an atrocity of a children’s drink.”

“Oh,” Allura frowns. “No, there are no drinking fountains in the house. Should I get some installed? With Hawaiian Punch?”

“ _Yes_!”

“No,” the rest of them say.

Allura shows them the tennis court from the upper level of the house, and then the bedrooms. She was right, for the most part. Besides the artwork and arrangement of the furniture, most of them are borderline identical. He still can’t get over how many damn windows are in the house, though. At least the ones in the bedrooms have shutters, but he didn’t notice anything like that anywhere else. The bedrooms also all have doors that lead to outside, presumably for a better view of the beach or courtyard.

Suddenly, it all seems too good to be true, like he’s dreaming or something. Shiro’s back, and now they’re staying in a home so expensive he’s afraid to walk around with shoes on. They walk past a small little alcove with windows for walls, two chairs, and a chaise lounge. It almost looks like a reading nook, but there are no bookshelves around.

They walk past the indoor courtyard, past the hot tub and pool, and end up in the backyard, pristine and well-maintained. Grass bleeds into sand as they near the beach, but he’s careful not to go in the water. He doesn’t feel like taking off his shoes, and he’s not going in with them on. Besides, Allura doesn’t leave them there long, and then she’s leading them back inside.

* * *

 

The garage lights blink on as they enter. It’s quiet with just the three of them, and the dust in the air is highlighted when Allura taps an app on her phone and all four of the large garage doors open upwards and disappear against the ceiling. All of their cars are there, minus Shiro’s obviously, and he walks past each vehicle, cataloguing them in his mind. Finally he ends up at the Corvette. It’s a coupe, thankfully. He does not want to show up to a street race in a convertible. That’s just ridiculous.

Lance is ‘ooh’-ing and ‘ahh’-ing at the Lamborghini, probably covering the fiberglass in fingerprints, but Allura doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles pleasantly at him as he rambles on about it. “The Aventador like changed the game, you know?” he says, opening the rear hood and checking out the engine. It’s always been weird to Keith that those European cars do that sometimes. It just seems so backwards. “I mean, sure, it only gets about eleven miles to the gallon in the city, but whatever! This car right here is running at like six hundred and eighty horsepower at eight thousand RPMs at stock! Think about what you could do with mods! That’s fucking insane! I mean, it’s a V12 engine! I’ve never driven anything above a V8! What’s the zero-to-sixty on this? Like three seconds or some shit?”

“Two-point-nine,” Allura offers helpfully.

“Exactly! What the fuck?! Can I drive it? I _really_ want to drive it.” He folds his hands together in prayer and literally gets on his knees in front of her. What is wrong with this guy? This is the person he wants to sleep with?

But Lance does look pretty decent on his knees, so – yeah, he guesses he is.

Allura just walks over to a box bolted against the wall and inputs a five-digit code to open it. She pulls out two pairs of keys and hands the first pair to Lance before gesturing at him to catch the others. The Corvette’s keys land perfectly in his open hand. He presses the unlock button on the remote keyless entry and the door opens seamlessly, light and solid all at the same time. Sliding inside, he notices how all sound seems to be drowned out immediately. Once he shuts the door, it’s like being in a soundproof bubble almost. The leather interior feels absolutely heavenly, dragging against the leather of his gloves as he runs his hand down the steering wheel. He grips the top of it with his left hand and fits his other over the gearshift, getting a feeling for it. The car’s got a Hearst shifter, so he imagines it’ll feel like almost nothing when he’s shifting in and out of each gear. It cuts the movement nearly in half. He takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes, and decides maybe he doesn’t hate it. It’s not his Mustang, but it’s something he could definitely get used to.

Then he pushes down on the brake and presses the button to start it up. Immediately everything lights up, analog tachometer and speedometer needles raising and lowering immediately as the car starts. Chevy’s logo spins on the digital display in the middle of the dashboard, and then numerous apps pop up – GPS, Pandora, Bluetooth, others he has no interest in.

He taps the Pandora app and sees it set up with a few stations, probably left over by Allura. None of it is really his style, so he creates a new one – Three Days Grace. Really brings him back to his grungy teenage years.

He gets a good feel for everything again before shifting out of neutral and carefully exiting the garage. It has a little more jump than his Mustang, even though his car is supercharged, but he’s careful to gauge how quickly it accelerates before really getting started. He stays in first until he reaches the road outside of her property, and then speeds up. He isn’t sure of what the shift point is in this car, so he watches the tachometer as he goes. When he reaches forty MPH, he shifts into second, and speeds up more in order to merge onto Highway 1. All of these cars have cop plates, and Allura _did_ say they had almost complete immunity…

He shifts into third almost immediately, pushing down on the throttle until he hits ninety, and then one-hundred, and then he shifts into fourth. He wonders how fast he can make this thing go…

Already he’s feeling that rush – racing is something that ends up leaving him with pure adrenaline in his veins. It’s such a good feeling. He swerves around traffic, grateful it’s not too busy, and contemplates rolling down the windows, but knows he’s going way too fast for that. His hair would turn into a rat’s nest.

So he glances at the ocean as he goes, tearing his eyes off the road for mere seconds at a time before looking forward again. He doesn’t even pay attention to how fast he’s going, just keeps accelerating, but somewhere around one-thirty or so his heart starts slamming in his chest so quickly he feels like he can’t breathe. It’s almost terrifying, driving this fast. If he so much as clips a car he could die.

He pushes down on the throttle more. Reaches one-forty, lets out a whoop of a scream and laughs.

He thinks this is almost good as sex, in a way. He just – he _loves_ driving. He loves cars, loves moving. There’s something about it that’s so amazing to him. This machine, taking him to almost anywhere he wants it to go. Taking him there at speeds humanity couldn’t have even dreamed about going one hundred years ago.

He starts to slow a little after a few minutes, all the way down to ninety, and he takes in the sights a little more. Highway 1 really is beautiful, with the mountains and the water and beaches. He’s glad he lives here, suddenly, wonders if it could be this pretty literally anywhere else.

Then there’s a growl of an engine and he looks over to his right. Lance is there in the Aventador, sticking out his tongue at Keith, and it’s such an innocent expression compared to what Lance usually shoots him that he can’t help but grin and do it back. Lance looks a little shocked at first, and then smirks, waves at him, and shoots forward.

Keith follows after him. They get up to about one-eighty before they hit so much traffic they have to slow to normal speeds.

Lance is a genuinely good driver, Keith thinks; not just from what he’s heard, but from what he’s seen. Lance always gets a little butthurt when he loses, especially to Keith, but he’s actually quite good at what he does. He’s probably been driving for a long time, all things considered. No one who hasn’t would be able to get into a Lamborghini for the first time and weave around cars like it was nothing.

Keith finally pulls off on an exit near the beach, and Lance follows behind. Keith wasn’t sure if he would, but there aren’t many pure white Lamborghinis around, so it’s definitely Lance following him down the ramp. Slowly, remaining in first, Keith leads the way, driving down a street that will lead them to the beach. He’s never been to this one before, and he thinks maybe if Lance is alone he won’t be so defensive. Like most of the way he acts is really just a show for other people.

It’s around five in the afternoon, so it’s not even remotely dark yet, but it’s a little bit cooler than it was in the city earlier, especially since they’re right on the ocean. He pulls into a parking spot kind of away from everyone else and turns off the car before sitting for a moment and catching his breath. He hadn’t even realized he’d been so worked up until the car stopped. When he finally gets out, Lance is sliding open the scissor door and unfolding himself out. He’s so damn tall that in a car like a Lamborghini he has to really work to get in and out of it. Keith imagines it’s pretty comfortable on the inside, though.

“That was crazy!” Lance exclaims, throwing his arms in the air and shutting the door. It swishes silently, and then Lance arms the alarm and walks over to him. “How was the Corvette? Probably not as good as my Lambo.”

“It’s not exactly yours,” Keith returns, amused. He shuts the door to the Corvette before locking it and arming it as well. “But it was…amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever gone that fast before.”

“Me neither,” Lance laughs, obviously still a little jumpy. Keith notices his pupils are blown so wide they almost cover his dark blue irises, and wonders if his own are as well. He gives a breathless laugh as well and shakes his head before stepping over the little divider between the parking lot and the beach. Immediately he takes off his shoes, tucking them under his arm and frowning at how hot the sand is. He powers past it, though, noticing Lance take his shoes off as well and follow him once more.

There’s the private beach at the house, but somehow Keith almost likes this more. There are families about, kids in the shallow tide, and even a teenager attempting to surf in the small, summer waves. It’s not packed, really, especially since it’s later in the day, but it’s populated.

“Why’d you stop here?” Lance asks then, and his voice is almost soft.

Keith shrugs. He doesn’t know why Lance is being decent to him; maybe he was right about it being an act for other people. Or maybe all the driving and adrenaline loosened him up a little. “I don’t know, really. I mean, I guess I used to go to the beach with Shiro a lot before he – you know. Probably more in the winter than any other time, because he likes to surf, but it’s…”

“Nostalgic?”

“Yeah,” he nods, looking out at the water.

“The beaches here are a lot different from the ones in Miami or Cuba. I mean, maybe not to visitors or anything – people who didn’t grow up around the water – but they are. Still, sometimes it’s as close as I can get to home. The ocean is totally different, but it smells the same.”

Keith blinks and looks over at him, but Lance has his eyes closed, presumably to feel the ocean breeze and take in the briny scent. He bites his bottom lip and looks away. Lance really is _quite_ pretty. “If you…if you miss your home so much, why are you here?”

Lance doesn’t answer at first, and Keith wonders if he passed some really personal boundary, this _is_ their first non-hostile conversation ever, but then the other man sighs and bumps their shoulders together. “Nosy, huh?”

“I just want to know more about you,” he says before he can filter himself. His face warms a little, but he doesn’t take it back.

Lance makes a small noise in the back of his throat, then shakes his head. “My _mamá_ , she – I don’t know, she always worried about me. My brothers and sister were like…straight-A students and they played sports and were, I don’t know, _straight_ , but then there I was, constantly being brought home by the local police, or smoking in the boy’s bathroom at school, or being caught making out with a girl and a boy in the same week. And I mean, all by the time I was sixteen. And I kept trying to set things right, you know? Stopped smoking, tried to get out of the lifestyle, but it just kept coming back. The people that I rode with, they wouldn’t really let me go. At some point I just kind of…gave up. Then Hunk and I stole his dad’s car and drove upstate and my _mamá_ …I just knew after that that she wasn’t gonna be able to handle me. No one could. She would drive herself crazy trying to set me straight, or she’d have to live with seeing me in jail or something. I’ve just – I’ve always been this stir-crazy person. I’m like, addicted to adrenaline or something, I don’t know.” He pauses, takes in a big breath, and then Keith sees him put his head in his hands. “I don’t have any idea of why I’m telling you all this…”

“Because I asked,” Keith says simply.

Lance looks over at him, eyes peeking between fingertips, and then he lowers his hands and smiles. “I guess, yeah.”

Keith guesses if Lance told him something personal, he should as well. He stops walking and looks out at the water for a moment, and then plops down into the sand. Lance makes a confused noise, but then follows suit and sits next to him. “Like I told you and Pidge, I was adopted when I was fourteen. My parents were these low-level drug dealers or something, I assume. I never really understood it when I was a kid, but I remember all of these people going in and out of our house, and then one day my mom was on the couch not breathing and the DEA was busting down our door. I was eleven, and they threw me into the system. I was lucky, I guess, to only be in there for three years, but it was so shitty. The foster care in LA is fucked up, to put it lightly, and I went through a few families before I met Shiro’s. Then _his_ parents died, and it was just us. I was sixteen and he was twenty-three. He started racing for money, and when I found out I tried to get him to let me do it, too, but he didn’t until I turned eighteen. He didn’t like it then, either, but he knew I was going to do it anyway. So he got me the Mustang and the both of us started running together. He was obviously in a much higher class than me, so we never raced together, but we stayed close. Then, when I was twenty he was – I don’t know, he says taken, but he can’t really remember anything. He knows it was the Galra, but he can’t even remember what really happened to his arm. He’s still somewhat in shock I think; he has PTSD or something…he can’t even sleep at night.”

Lance is quiet for a moment. “That’s pretty fucked up, man.”

He doesn’t even try to play it off. “Yeah, it is.” Keith lays back on the sand, not caring if it mattes his hair or not. He stares up at the blue sky for a long time, counting the few clouds that roll by. It’s really a beautiful day. But then he has a very important question to ask. “Okay, dude, I’ve gotta ask. Why do you hate me so much?”

Lance scoffs. “I don’t hate you.”

“ _Really_?”

“Really! I just…you drive me crazy, I don’t know. Sometimes I hate you, I guess, but I think I just…don’t understand you. I’ve never understood why you pushed people away when you were so…cool and had every opportunity to be popular and shit.”

“Didn’t realize this was high school.”

“Oh fuck off, you know what I mean. You’re just so…effortlessly perfect. It can be irritating.”

“I’m _not_ perfect,” Keith laughs. “Not by a long shot.”

“Well, you’re better than me,” Lance mutters.

Keith sits up, then. “So…you were jealous?”

Lance bristles. “I wasn’t jealous!”

“It kind of sounds like you were jealous.”

“I wasn’t! It’s just…it’s like seeing someone who’s really spoiled but takes it all for granted!” He fires back. “I don’t know. You just seemed so…holier-than-thou. Like you were better than me, like I wasn’t worth your time. I was just a little fly under your foot that you didn’t need to bother with.”

Keith frowns, eyebrows furrowing. “You felt that way?” Lance snorts in return. “I never thought that, Lance. In fact, you’re probably one of the most challenging racers I’ve ever been up against. I’m serious. And you were just always trying to get me riled up for some reason, and I didn’t want to fight you, so I tried to ignore most of your taunts.” Lance grumbles something then, but Keith can’t hear him. “What?” He mumbles it again. “Lance, come on.”

“I said: I’m _sorry_ , okay? God!”

“Oh,” Keith returns, honestly surprised. He never expected Lance to apologize to him. “For what?” There’s a lot he should probably apologize for.

“What do you mean ‘for what?’?” He squeaks back. “For like…attacking you the other night and shit! And for like – I don’t know, everything else, I guess… But I’m not saying it again so don’t expect me to!”

He can’t help it, he laughs, hiding his grin behind his hand. “Okay, I won’t.” Lance looks over at him, and he just looks right back. The other man opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something, but then he stops himself. Keith counts to himself in his head. It takes until four for Lance to look away, obviously embarrassed.

“Let’s-let’s just go back to the house. They’re probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”

“Sure,” Keith says, still somewhat amused. It’s good, he guesses, that he finally knows why Lance was always pissed at him. And he knows why Lance is here, too, which quells some of the curiosity. But now there are a million other questions in his head. Why did his family leave Cuba in the first place? And Lance never mentioned his father, either.

But he leaves it be, bumping his shoulder against Lance’s like the other man had earlier. Apparently Lance sees this as some sort of challenge then, and they end up laughing and bumping each other so hard that Keith ends up sprawled on the ground with Lance laughing his ass off. Grinning, Keith sweeps Lance’s long legs out from under him, and he hits the sand, too.

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, and then heave themselves up and head back to the house. The race on the way back ends up being a tie.

* * *

 

Pidge's 2000 Nissan Skyline R34 (GT-R)

**Color** : Lime fuckin' Green 

 **Mods** : Turbocharged, hood scoop, upgraded computer system (comparable with the 2015 McLaren, which has such an advanced computer in it that it can individually brake certain tires)

 **Transmission** : 5-Speed 

 **Performance Specs** : HP at 6500 RPMs - 310/ Torque at 4200 RPMs - 322 lb-ft

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next time we hop back to Lance's POV and things get REALLY gay. Like, the reason this fic's rating went up amount of gay. 
> 
> Also I found out recently that there's a place near me where you can rent supercars per lap...So...I was always planning on killing a man to drive a Lamborghini, but turns out I can do it for about three hundred dollars. That works out.


	5. Fandango

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rather long because - well, you see I'm quite far ahead. I'm currently writing chapter nine, which is intense for me, as I usually update as I write, and I sat back and realized, "Holy fuck this is moving way too goddamn fast." So I went back to this chapter and added two extra days in and it ended up adding another 5k words to the chapter.

Keith doesn’t care if Allura paints the Corvette or not, but Lance _definitely_ cares about the Lambo.

“Blue!” He yelps, excited. “Oh, with black decals, okay? Um, like something edgy, you know? Oh god, what if you just put a lion’s head on the hood?!”

“That sounds tacky as fuck, Lance,” Keith says, rolling his eyes.

Pidge, Hunk, Shay and Coran are getting the tech side of everything set up, complete with ear pieces so they can communicate with each other. He had commented that it made him feel like a spy, but he got a bland look at that, so he hasn’t brought it up again. He, Shiro, Keith, and Allura are in the garage again; it’s dark outside, but the lights in the garage are bright. Shiro is looking under the hood of the Corvette, mumbling to himself, and Keith is close to him, but gives him his space.

Lance remembers what Keith had said yesterday, about Shiro not being able to sleep, being scared all the time. It must be hard on them.

Allura laughs a little as well. “Let’s not do anything too drastic. We want to be as discreet as possible.”

He grimaces, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Allura,” Shiro calls, and she looks over at him. “Could you add headers to this?”

She blinks at him for a moment, and Lance definitely does not miss the starry look in her eyes. “Y-yes, of course. Whatever you think we need.”

“It looks like it’s already turbocharged, which is something we can definitely work with. Wider tires, maybe,” he goes on. “And we can outfit each car with NOS.” Shiro glances at her. “You know how to hook it up, right?”

“Of course!” She says, maybe a little too excitably. She clears her throat. “Yes, of course. If you like, you can do the Corvette and I’ll do the Lamborghini.”

“Good,” he nods, and then his eyebrows draw together as he looks over the engine once more. “Are radars installed?”

“In every one of my cars, yes.”

“Alright, and we’ll have to change the plates out. I doubt they’ll like Keith and Lance rolling up looking like they’re driving unmarked police cruisers.”

“If the police force could afford Lamborghinis for their cops, a lot less people would get away,” Lance jokes, leaning back against the wall.

“Still,” Shiro laughs, shaking his head. “We just don’t need anything extra that might cause a screw up.”

“Alright, alright. We’ll keep it all on the DL. Just blue, then. But like, a pretty blue. Like the prettiest blue ever, to match me, the prettiest driver ever.”

Allura laughs again, and Shiro does as well. Even Keith is smiling. Good, he likes that. Making people laugh and smile is the best. Especially when that person is Keith.

…

Anyway. He looks over the engine of the Lambo again, careful not to touch any hot pieces this time, but just lets his eyes sweep over the beauty that is the inner workings of this car. He’s so goddamn lucky he got this opportunity, he thinks. While Keith was right, and it’s not _really_ his Lamborghini, he does have free reign with it for the most part. As long as it’s not ‘ridiculous’ apparently.

He’s careful not to look up at Keith too many times, but every fucking time he does, Keith’s eyes are on him. He can’t handle this. It’s too much. When they were rolling around in the sand earlier, he just –

It’s _irrelevant_.

“Alright,” Allura says then, breaking into the silence. He’s so grateful for her. “I think we should head back inside and see what the others have found.”

“Good idea,” Shiro nods. “We can get back to this later. We need to learn our time frame.”

Lance shoots up straight, nodding rigidly. “Yeah, let’s go inside. It’s uh – it’s so stuffy in here and stuff. Inside. Inside is good.”

They shoot him a weird look, but he doesn’t stay in the garage long enough to respond.

* * *

 

“Okay,” Pidge says when they enter the front dining room, where all of the equipment is set up. “We’ve been working a little bit with intercepting phone calls, text messages, forum posts, and I think we’ve figured out when and where the next race will be.”

“Excellent!” Allura exclaims moving to lean over Pidge and look at their screen. “Do tell.”

Pidge points to the monitor. “Okay, so, it looks like it’s going to be a three and a half mile run, and, uh, it’s open.”

“ _Cojeme_ ,” Lance groans. Things just keep piling on. “I hate driving open passes.”

“It’s less than ideal,” Pidge agrees, inclining their head a little. “But we’ve talked it over – we think you two can do it.”

“Well of course we _can_ ,” he sighs, pulling out a chair and plopping down into it.

“It is dangerous,” Keith nods, leaning his hip against the table. “Do we know who’s calling it?”

“Some guy named Sendak.”

Shiro frowns and crosses his arms. “That name sounds familiar…”

“He’s somewhat higher up. You might have met him while you were with them,” Pidge says, still focused on the monitor in front of them.

“…Maybe…”

“The bid is high, too, but Coran said that could be taken care of.”

“Yes!” Coran exclaims, nodding quickly. “Anything you need, we will be able to provide.”

“How high is high?” Keith asks.

Shay speaks up this time. “Seventy-five thousand per driver.”

“Good _lord_ ,” Lance chokes. “That’s a three-hundred thousand dollar pot between four drivers.”

“And that’s not all,” Pidge says, leaning back in their chair, taking off their glasses and cleaning them. “It looks like the winner gets into their next race automatically. It’s some kind of tiered system.”

“So one of you has to win.”

Lance looks at Keith, finds the guy already looking at him. That keeps happening. It makes his chest tighten a little. It’s nice to be payed attention to by him, but it’s getting confusing. “We know who that’ll be.”

Keith grins, and Lance can’t look away. “I think we do.”

Pidge rolls their eyes and sighs heavily before getting back to something on their laptop. “I can kick into a visual satellite feed a la Google Earth to watch the two of you real time, and I can give you directions as well to avoid traffic. You’ll have to take two separate routes to avoid more suspicion than might already be placed on you. If worst comes to worst, just say something is fucked up with you GPS. It probably won’t matter much, anyway. It looks like they give you a location and you get there as quickly as you can. It’s through a fairly dense area of the city, too. I don’t know what they’re expecting. This kind of pass takes a long time.”

“They’re looking for precision, not just speed,” Allura says, resting a hand on the back of Pidge’s chair. “Anyone can go fast. There aren’t many people who can control a car when doing so.”

Shiro nods. “These two will be perfect for it, then.”

Lance preens a little under the praise, while Keith looks a little sheepish, and it’s way too endearing to be natural.

He needs to get a grip on himself.

“When is it?” Lance asks.

“Wednesday night at midnight,” Hunk puts in. “But like Pidge said, it’s a pretty popular area in LA, so the nighttime won’t make it easier traffic wise.”

“Might make it harder,” Pidge says, low. “LA has terrible traffic to begin with. But, Keith, it looks like there’s a freeway that you can take part of the way that might be easier, and Lance, I can take you through a residential. Distance wise Lance’s route is closer, but obviously he won’t be able to move as fast as Keith will on the freeway. Still, I think the residential areas will work better. We’ll have to just work it as we go.”

Lance looks up at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair until it’s wobbling on two legs and then falling back down again. “So this Sendak guy – what do we know about him?”

“Try not to break the chair,” Pidge sighs. “It looks like he’s bad news, honestly. I haven’t been able to get a lot of history on him, but just within the last week he’s hit up a car-carrier trailer on I-5. So he’s at least boosting cars. From what research I did, it looks like it was a group of four of them, and somehow they disconnected the semi from the trailer. The trucker who was hauling the cars crashed when it was separated, and it…was pretty messy apparently. Sendak’s people hooked up the trailer to one of their own trucks and got away before the police even arrived at the scene.”

“Estimate of the costs?”

“About five-hundred thousand just in vehicles. They were new imports.”

“Of course they were,” Lance mutters.

“They must have connections then,” Shiro puts in. “I doubt they just saw this truck on the road and decided to boost from it. They knew about those imports ahead of time and had enough foresight to bring a semi or truck heavy-duty enough to haul those cars.”

“We thought that, too,” Hunk says, watching something on Pidge’s computer. Whatever’s on it must be pretty interesting. “But we haven’t caught wind of anything.”

“Alright,” Allura frowns. “Well, it looks like we have four days until the race. That’s ample time to do whatever we need to the cars and get prepared. Pidge, find out anything more you can about Sendak and the race. For now, it’s getting late. Let’s wind down and we can start back up again tomorrow.”

Lance hops out of the chair and stretches, forcing a yawn. “Yass, sounds good. Let’s do that. It's been a…really long day.”

“What time is it?” Hunk asks, bringing out his phone. Lance does the same.

It’s not too late, only a little after eleven – they were in the garage for a long time – but he really is exhausted. And he’s kind of excited to try out his new bed. After seeing the luxury everywhere else, he imagines the beds are like sleeping on clouds or some shit.

Pidge doesn’t move from the table, of course, but Shay wraps her arm around Hunk’s and leads him out of the room, and Shiro and Keith walk off talking about something. Coran and Allura leave as well, and then it’s just him. He stares outside for a moment; it’s dark, but it’s easy to see the moon reflecting on the waves of the ocean. It’s beautiful, peaceful.

“So what happened?” Pidge asks once everyone is gone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean when you and Keith disappeared and then took forever to come back. And now you’re like…not even fighting. Make out in the Lamborghini or something?”

Lance laughs, only because of how nervous that thought makes him. How nice he thinks that would be. And fuck. He is used to attraction to Keith, but not desire. He pushes it aside. “We just talked. I can do that, you know.”

“Congratulations. I just thought maybe you would have hooked up or something.”

“ _Why_?”

Pidge looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. “You’re both so fucking into each other. God, it’s like I can smell the sexual tension around you two sometimes.”

“You don’t – you don’t mean that. It’s just bickering and shit.”

“Uh huh,” Pidge tells him, obviously not believing. They sigh before shutting their laptop and standing. “Lance, I know you hate hearing it, but Keith is not a bad person. He likes you, wants to be nice to you. You just never let him. And I’m sure you have your reasons, but they’re also probably childish and silly.”

Lance wants to tell them that he and Keith already kind of talked it over, and formed some sort of pseudo-truce, but he doesn’t know how to do that without divulging what they actually talked about. Mostly because Pidge would probably drill him for information, and he doesn’t need that right now. He needs to process everything. So much has changed just in the past day, and now Keith, too? Sure, it was easier to dislike him when he didn’t know him, but it’s not like that anymore, and he isn’t sure of what that means.

But maybe Pidge does see something he doesn’t. He is attracted to Keith, but he’s never noticed the same from him. Then again, he’s generally pretty bad at recognizing shit like that. Flirting is easy, it’s something he’s used to and can understand, but being flirted with? That doesn’t happen as much. Maybe this came about because he _didn’t_ flirt with Keith?

Whatever the case, he doesn’t want to talk this out with Pidge. He needs to think about it. “I know,” he says finally, waving Pidge off. “I’m trying to be nice, okay? Now, I’m gonna go to bed. Try to get some sleep tonight.”

“I’ll try,” Pidge mumbles. “Goodnight, Lance.”

“Night, Pidgey.”

“Don’t call me that!”

* * *

 

He stares at the ceiling. It’s really dark in the room, but he left the balcony door open a little so he can listen to the waves. It reminds him so much of his past, and that’s both a good and bad thing. He lets it calm him, though, so he can relax.

He and Keith are going to have to work together. They are. There’s no getting around that. And yes, from the beginning he’s thought Keith was pretty, and attractive, and – amazing, but this is all so new to him. He’s used to getting close to people quickly – he knew Hunk for all of half a week before they ran off with the Camaro that day – but he’s almost…embarrassed. Because he’s said he’s hated Keith for so long, when he didn’t really. He doesn’t know if he’s ever hated anyone, except maybe his father. So really, it was just more like jealousy. Keith was right. Lance just wanted to be like him, just wanted to be _liked_ by him. So whenever he came up short, he got mad at Keith instead of himself, because he didn’t want to consider himself the problem.

So what does that mean, then? They can be friends? He likes how competitive they get, that’s fun, so he doesn’t want to lose that, but they don’t have to be assholes to each other. Okay, well, Lance doesn’t have to be an asshole. Keith generally responded pretty well, all things considered.

So, yeah, Lance can be Keith’s friend, he thinks. It’ll be hard getting out of the old habit of trying to rile him up every second of the day, but he can manage it. Keith seems like he’s been through a lot of shit, he doesn’t really deserve Lance’s animosity.

* * *

 

He wakes up the next morning because of how goddamn bright it is in the room. He has a feeling this might be a reoccurring thing if he doesn’t shut the shutters – there’s four windows in the room, all facing an open beach. Granted, the sun doesn’t rise in the West, so he has that going for him.

Groaning, he sits up, running a hand through his hair. His mouth feels gross, and his face feels greasy, but all of his products, he realizes, are at his house. That could pose a problem. But he goes into the adjoining bathroom anyway, and finds a toothbrush and toothpaste at the very least. And he guesses he can just rinse his face with water for now. It’ll have to do.

After he dresses, he decides to make his way towards the kitchen for some breakfast. “So I need my shit,” he says when he slides up to the breakfast table, still a little groggy but refusing to show it. He’s going without his morning routine, and he doesn’t have any of his things, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do his best to look as phenomenal as possible – like he usually does.

Allura looks up at him, smiling – she’s eating some kind of egg dish, he thinks. It’s got a weird sauce on it. And bacon. Looks good, honestly. “Yes, of course. I was actually just discussing this with Shiro, and I believe we can take today to get some trucks to the city to pick up the things you think you’ll need while you’re here.”

“Yeah, you literally picked me up in the _middle of my game_ ,” Hunk grumbles, moving his food around on his plate. It looks a little more traditional than whatever Richey-Rich dish Allura’s eating.

“I apologize,” Allura tells him, shaking her head. “But we can pick that up today, and you’re more than welcome to use the theater room for your games if you like.”

“The theater room?” Hunk asks. “You mean…the one with the two-hundred foot screen?”

“We only have one, so yes.”

He grins. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” she laughs. “So yes, anything that anyone needs, we can get that.” She pauses, and then voices a question that Lance had been pointedly trying to avoid thinking about. “Where’s Keith?”

“Probably working out,” Shiro tells her, breaking his pancake apart with his fork. “He does it every morning.”

No wonder he’s so nice looking, he actually exercises; Lance is just naturally flawless himself, so he doesn’t do that. He also can’t, considering he turns into a flushed, panting mess in the worst way, and that’s not a good look on him. Thinking about Keith working out, however, is something he needs to stay far away from. Far, far away from. It makes his mouth go a little dry.

“Is he going to come eat?” She asks. “Should I go get him?” Please don’t.

“Ah, let him be,” his older brother smiles. Oh thank god. “It gives him some sense of normalcy, I think. He’s still adjusting.”

“To be sure,” she nods. “And where is Pidge?”

“Probably sleeping,” Hunk offers. “They usually don’t get to bed until daylight hours, and that’s if they sleep at all.”

“Do they have sleeping problems? I have medications that could help.”

“I don’t think they _like_ to sleep,” Lance says, also grateful that Pidge can’t hover around and bug him about what they talked about last night. “Which is preposterous, because sleeping is amazing. But mostly we just leave them be when it comes to that sort of thing. They hate being lectured.”

“And I know no one else like that,” Hunk mocks, grinning. Lance flips him off.

“Alright, well,” she smiles, taking a bite of her fancy breakfast. After she’s swallowed she says, “We can meet the movers in the city – Shiro, if you feel up to driving, you’re welcome to use one of my cars.”

He stops for a moment, staring at his plate. He looks a little…upset, almost. But then his face relaxes, and he smiles. “I would like to try, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” she smiles, placing a hand on his forearm and leaning forward. “Pick whichever you like. It will be good practice for when we get your Trans Am back.”

He nods at her, smiling, and the moment is very sweet but Lance is starting to get agitated by something. “Okay, what the _fuck_ are you eating, Allura?”

She blinks at him, then down at her plate. “Eggs benedict,” she tells him, as if that means anything at all. “It’s an English muffin, bacon, a poached egg, and hollandaise sauce. It’s quite good. Would you like to try one?” He nods quickly, and she looks both ways before leaning forward and stage-whispering to him. “I would get Coran to make you one, but he’s an absolutely awful cook. Hunk made me this one.”

“Of course he did,” Lance laughs. “Our Hunk is a modern genius, with both cars and food.”

“I have my priorities right,” Hunk grins, proudly. “Yes, Lance, I will make you one after I finish eating.”

“Sweet.”

He doesn’t like it at all. Hollandaise sauce is gross.

* * *

 

When he sees Keith again, it is apparently fresh from the shower, and Lance is trying not to go into cardiac arrest. Because his stupid, _stupid_ mullet looks so good when it’s wet and sticking to his skin. And he smells…divine. That’s the only way Lance knows how to put it. So he does his best to stick it out and not act like an idiot. He doesn’t do well.

“Suh, dude,” he shoots Keith a sideways peace sign.

Keith’s eyes just narrow in confusion. “Hi?”

“It’s, uh…it’s a meme…”

“Oh, okay,” Keith returns, and this is apparently enough of an explanation. Lance does not quite remember how to use words correctly and in a non-awkward manner.

“Um – we’re, uh, going to pick up our shit from our places today, so…if you need anything…we’re going to get it.”

“Oh, good,” he nods, and Lance smells his hair when he flicks it away from the back of his neck. He has to hold on discreetly to the wall next to him. He plays it off as nonchalant leaning. “I need to get more clothes.”

“I’ve never seen you in anything other than that red jacket, though,” Lance jokes, pushing through the insane waves of ‘oh shit, he’s hot,’ running through him. He knew this was going to be an issue. “Didn’t know you had other clothes.”

“Of course I do,” Keith sniffs. “I just like that jacket.” He pauses. “Shiro gave it to me.”

Lance blinks, feeling a little sorry for picking at him about it. “Oh, sorry,” he says. Friends are supposed to be sympathetic, and he really is. More than he expected to be. “You really love him, don’t you?”

Keith shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “He’s all I have.”

Lance looks at him, and then, without really thinking about the consequences says, “Not anymore.”

The other man seems a little shocked at first, and then the sweetest smile graces his lips. Lance is overtaken by how beautiful he is; how did he never notice this? Why didn’t he ever decide to say _nice_ things to Keith? Because if that’s the reaction he gets, something so soft and sweet and warm, he’s a little peeved with himself for being such a douchebag to him the past two years. Teasing, he thinks, is fine, and not going to stop any time soon, but the more he ponders on it, the more he realizes that he doesn’t even _want_ to be mad at Keith anymore. It takes too much energy, and besides, this is kind of a reward.

Although it also causes monster chest pains, so it’s somewhat of a double-edged sword.

“Yeah,” Keith nods, voice low and soft. “Not anymore. Thanks, Lance.” Oh god, when he looks like that, Lance just wants to scoop him up and kiss him. That needs to – that feeling needs to fucking _go_. It’s completely unnecessary. Pidge can say what they want, and yeah, maybe he is attracted to Keith, but…friends. That’s what he said. Friends.

Although, he thinks…maybe…it wouldn’t be _too_ bad if he hooked up with Keith.

It’s something he fights with himself over – whether he should even consider it or not. Maybe…if Keith made the first move or something. Yeah, he could probably do that. He thinks he’s pretty down for it. Friends. Who also hook up. That could be hot.

Really hot. He needs to stop thinking about that with Keith right in front of him, because he tends to have a bad poker face when it comes to arousal.

With more force than is really needed, he bounds off the wall and starts towards the garage. “Uh,” he says, and he knows Keith is surprised again, but by his actions this time. “Let’s go meet with the others.”

* * *

 

Shiro picks the Ferrari 458, which isn’t too surprising because the 458 would have been Lance’s next choice after the Lambo, but it’s kind of funny to watch him fold himself into it. Shiro is tall and bulky, so he must feel a little oversized in the supercar, but he looks in his element once he’s in it. He runs his hand against the wheel and then smiles at Allura. “It’s wonderful,” he tells her, and she nods.

“It’s even more fun to drive,” she laughs. “I think it’s most likely my favorite.”

“Paddle shifters, though,” he says, looking around at everything.

“Still fun,” Allura assures him, but Lance agrees with Shiro– paddle shifters aren’t as entertaining as a traditional gearshift. He pushes down on the start button on the steering wheel and it purrs alive, and it _does_ sound nice.

Still, Lance climbs into his EVO, and Allura gets in her convertible Audi R8 with Coran; it’s going to be a nice day so he’s a little jealous of her, but he’s just happy to be headed to his house to pick up his things. They all roll out, the six of them, and pull onto highway 1 towards Los Angeles. He thinks it looks a little suspicious, all of these racing cars bundled together on the highway like a pack of sophisticated wolves, but it’s fun, too. Especially when he gets the chance to overtake Keith for a second and they swerve around each other expertly, avoiding other cars while still trying to get in front.

Pidge texts him to tell him to stop fucking around, but he pointedly ignores it, driving up next to the Skyline, rolling down his windows, and blaring the most obnoxious music he can think of. They jerk their steering wheel towards him and he almost runs off the highway trying not to get hit, but he’s cracking up laughing.

They get to Keith and Shiro’s first, because it’s closest, and the U-Haul is already waiting patiently. Lance does doughnuts around the parking lot while the brothers attempt to avoid him as they bring out their things.

“Is your mission going to be to be as annoying as possible today?” Keith asks when the EVO slides up dangerously close to him. His head tilted to the side, lips pursed, a suitcase in his hand, and whoa, Lance wants to kiss that. 

“That’s my mission every day,” Lance returns, and does another doughnut instead, black skid marks appearing against the pavement and smoke rising up around him.

The next place to go is Pidge’s. They have a lot more than anyone was expecting, but it’s mostly equipment. Allura tells them that she can replace all of their things with newer technology, but they just take offense to that and she has to apologize profusely while they cart laptops and computer towers and various other things that Lance won’t presume to be able to identify. Shiro helps them, and Allura times Lance and Keith in a small drag race down the empty street next to their apartment. Lance does it in about eight-four.

He doesn’t want to talk about Keith’s time.

(Seven-five, almost a whole second faster.)

After Pidge’s is Hunk and Shay’s. They’ve got the most stuff, between Hunk’s kitchen and gaming equipment and Shay’s rock collection. Lance actually helps them, because he’s a good friend. (Because everyone was getting tired of him being lazy again.) Shay hovers over him anxiously as he moves her rocks (“ _Geodes, Lance_!”) and it’s probably the most nervous he’s ever seen her. She’s usually max chill, especially compared to her boyfriend, but Hunk is too focused on the thought of playing an FPS in the theater (“ _Think about how awesome_ Bioshock _would look in it!_ ” Hunk exclaims. Lance disagrees. “ _I’d probably shit myself, honestly. I don’t want to think about life-sized splicers yelling bible verses at me_.” Bioshock is a scary game even to him. Hunk has a panic attack nearly every time he tries to play it, but he still loves it for some reason.)

The last destination is his house, and the thought of having his things with him is a very excited one. “Who wants to help?!” He asks, hands on his hips. No one offers. “Wow, thank you. Thank you _so_ much, friends.”

“I’ll come,” Hunk says, chuckling. “You’ll need someone to help carry all your beauty supplies.”

“Beauty supplies?” Keith laughs, apparently thinking Hunk is kidding.

“Yes,” Lance says simply. “Have you not seen my divine complexion? The only person capable of waking up like this is Yoncé.”

Keith just looks amused. It’s kind of cute. Pidge sighs. “Don’t get him started on Beyoncé, _please_.”

“We’re basically kindred spirits,” Lance nods. “We get our inspiration from each other.”

“I’m sure,” Pidge deadpans, expression flat.

Honestly, he doesn’t have _that_ much. Most of his things are already in travel bags to keep them organized, and then he has clothes and such. There are other things he’d probably like to bring back with him, but he doesn’t want to go near that drawer while there are other people around – even he has _some_ shame. He’ll come back for it later.

After the U-Haul is appropriately full of all of their things, they head to a late lunch at a Moroccan place not far from Lance’s. He thinks the waiter probably hates them all the way up until the point when Allura pays for them and leaves a one-hundred percent tip on a two-hundred dollar bill. Lance flirts with the guy a little, too, and doesn’t quite miss the way Keith huffs about it. That makes him feel happy, somehow.

On the way back to Malibu, Keith constantly rides right in front of him, slowing down every time Lance tries to speed up and swerving to keep him from going around. Normally Lance would be irritated by this, but it’s kind of fun, and he thinks maybe its Keith being a little jealous, which is a lovely thought. At one point, to spite him right back, Lance gently taps the back of the Mustang and immediately Keith moves to try and run him off the road. When they get back he does not look happy, so Lance just laughs and wraps an arm around his shoulders and tries not to get a little woozy at the proximity. Keith decides to forgive him.

The day hasn’t been so bad, he decides. Being friends with Keith isn’t all that difficult. Sure, sometimes he’s a little too beautiful and Lance has to look away, or he laughs and Lance has to do his best to remember how to breathe, but this is easy and nice. Keith is cute and not so shitty when Lance isn’t riding his ass, and maybe he should have tried being nice a little sooner, but it’s no big deal, honestly.

Lance doesn’t even let the dream he gets of Keith that night bother him too much.

* * *

 

The next morning Lance can go through his ritual again, which is more than nice; apparently Pidge thinks he’s taking too long, however, because they bang on his bedroom door a little after nine, yelling at him to hurry up because, “Hunk is going to be offended if he has to put your breakfast in the microwave!” Which is true.

So he pulls off his mask a few minutes early and then gets dressed, sliding his t-shirt over his head and strolling out of the room. He and Pidge walk back to the kitchen together, with Pidge yammering away about how the earpieces are going to work during the race even with their lack of proximity. “Allura’s equipment has amazing range,” they say. “The earpieces even have their own frequency, so they can’t be intercepted. Technically we’ll be able to stay all the way in Malibu during your race, which will be helpful since I can spread all of the equipment on her huge ass dining room table. This means you and Keith are going to be alone out there, though, so if you need backup…”

“It’ll be alright, Pidge,” Lance says, even though the thought of going it alone bothers him a little bit. Well, not totally alone. He’ll have Keith, he guesses. If there’s anyone he wants on his side, though, it’s definitely Keith. He’s beyond strong. Probably attributed to his very worn out gym membership. “Don’t worry about us. Now, what did Hunk make for breakfast?”

They pass through one of the living rooms on the way there, and Shiro and Keith are on the white couch, watching something on the television and chatting idly. Honestly, they’ve been nearly inseparable the whole time, but Lance cannot blame them in the least. When he finally works up the nerve to see his _mamá_ again he’s sticking as close to her as she’ll let him, barring the fact that she doesn’t want to kick his ass out of Florida for being a piece of shit, which is something he has to consider.

He doesn’t think about it. He thinks about Keith instead, the way he smiles so brightly at his brother, and the way it turns a little softer when he looks at Lance. He has the urge to drag him away again, but he can’t do that for a million reasons. He wonders what it would be like, anyway, and has to constantly chant the word ‘ _friend, friend, friend’_ in his mind as he imagines the way it would feel for Keith to be inside of him.

They’ve got a few more days before the race, and Lance wants to be positive that he can handle the Lambo correctly, so he takes it out for another drive. He uses the time to clear his head a little too, rolling down the window as he drives down the highway, watching the ocean lap against the shore – he goes further than they had the other day, miles and miles further, until it’s been so long that Hunk is texting him, worried. He texts him back, and then keeps going. He likes to be surrounded by people, loves it, even, but having time to himself is nice, too.

He drives through Los Padres for a while, the forest beautiful and green around him, very unlike what he’s used to, and though it’s not the ocean, doesn’t remind him of home, it’s still calming in a lot of ways.

He kind of wishes Keith was with him.

He stops in Santa Barbara for a late lunch, walks on the pier, kicks his feet off the edge, and then gets back in the Aventador and finally heads back to Malibu. When he pulls into the garage, Hunk is already there, obviously nervous.

“Lance,” he chastises. “You can’t just run off without telling anyone.”

“I mentioned it,” he says, in his defense.

“Yes, at breakfast you said, ‘I might take the Lambo out for a little test run in a bit.’” Hunk agrees. “But then you were gone for four hours. That’s not…a test run.”

“I wanted to go see the national forest,” he shrugs. “I’d never been.”

Hunk seems to forgive him, exhaling deeply and relaxing. “Was it pretty?”

“Gorgeous. Have you ever been?”

“Los Padres? Yeah, I used to go there with my family when I was younger,” he shrugs. “I can’t believe you’ve lived here for five years and you’ve never gone.”

Lance puts the keys to the Lamborghini in Allura’s little safe and stretches. The Aventador is certainly luxurious, but he’s tall, and it can get a little cramped after a couple of hours. “You know my only love is the sea,” he jokes. “I’ve been to almost every beach from San Francisco to the border. Haven’t had time for national forests.”

“Of course,” Hunk laughs. “Well, it’ll probably please you to know that Keith was worried, too.”

“Seriously?” Lance chuckles, delighted. It’s a funny thing, that he gets so giddy over Keith being so bothered over him.

“Yeah, said that Lamborghini was too expensive for you to scratch up when you try to play ‘How Fast Can I Swerve In and Out of Traffic?’”

Lance has to bite his lip not to laugh. “I’m offended.”

“Don’t be,” Hunk says, not picking up on his sarcasm. “He was covering up that he really was worried about what was taking you so long. He doesn’t even know you like Pidge and I do and he knew that you’re way too ADD for day drives.”

“Untrue,” Lance huffs, crossing his arms. “I just did it.”

“Yes, you proved us wrong,” his friend laughs. “Come inside.

Hunk shows him to his set up in the theater room, then, and everyone comes around except for Shiro and Allura. “He gets triggered easily,” Keith whispers to him, leaning over the middle of their seats to get closer. “Games like this just – aren’t a good idea for him.”

Lance nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

Hunk’s only a few minutes into the game before he’s too scared to keep playing and Pidge has to take over, expertly barreling down the medical level. Lance doesn’t realize he and Keith are literally pressed together until the main character is moving to the next area of Rapture and things have calmed down a little. They pull apart, almost awkwardly, but when Pidge gets stupid and goes after a Big Daddy, they practically crawl into each other’s laps again. Keith’s hand finds his, and all he tells himself is that – hey, it’s not a big deal. He holds Hunk’s hand sometimes. It can be a bro thing. Doesn’t have to be weird.

It’s a little weird, Lance knows. Luckily everyone else is too focused on the game to worry about what’s going on with him and Keith, and he swallows when Keith’s grip tightens a little after a particular jumpscare. It doesn’t even bother him that they’re grown ass men, terrified; the only people not terrified are Shay, Pidge, and surprisingly Coran, who just keeps commenting on the things Pidge finds around Rapture, spewing off history and how interesting it is that the developers put that there or there or had this or that.

With Keith so close, all he can really focus on is his warmth and scent anyway. It’s weird that Lance picks up on it so easily – he doesn’t usually even notice other people’s scents. It’s not usually a big thing for him. Unless…well, okay, unless he’s attracted to them. Which makes sense. But still, it’s odd.

After a few moments it’s too much for Lance to take, and he shoots up, making an excuse, and leaves the room.

He can handle friends, he can handle sex, he can even handle platonic intimacy – but the second his mind supplied the phrase, ‘this feels a little like a couple thing,’ he had to run.

He can do everything else. He cannot do 'couple.'

* * *

 

He avoids Keith for a little while after that, but it doesn’t last long. They are all in the same house, after all, and Lance is terrible at listening to anyone, even himself. “Stay away,” he whispers harshly, into a mirror. And then a few minutes later he and Keith are slouched on the couch, pressed thigh to thigh, watching an episode of Head2Head and arguing over which is better – the McLaren P1 or the Porsche 918.

“And for the last time,” Lance sighs. “We’re not posh Europeans – it’s Pore-sh. Not Pore-sha.”

“Allura pronounces it Pore-sha,” Keith returns, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well she’s a posh European, so it’s fine. I think. She sounds English, at least.”

“I think I heard her talking about Switzerland once,” the other man offers. “But then again, apparently she has like four homes scattered around, so it’s hard to say if that’s just one of her vacation spots.”

“Oh yes,” Lance mocks, leaning forward, putting on an English accent. “This is my thirty million dollar home in Malibu; I also have a private jet and a spaceship that stays docked at the ISS. I take it out on spins around the universe when I get bored.”

Keith laughs, doubling over. “Lance, you sound nothing like her.”

“Princess!” he goes on anyway, mimicking Coran this time. He clears his throat. “We bought this planet for six trillion Bargledorfs, you know, back in the nineties. It’s got such a rich history –” But he can’t keep going because he’s laughing too hard, tears at the edges of his eyes, and he leans back against the couch to breathe. “Anyway, the _Porsche_ ,” he says, annunciating clearly. “It’s much better.”

When Keith can breathe enough to respond he says, “The McLaren has more horsepower, and a more powerful computer.”

“Oh come on, who are you – Pidge? The Porsche is a fucking classic.”

“Yeah, because they haven’t changed anything since the nineties, when Allura bought that planet.”

Lance cracks up at that, not even a little mad at the joke made at the 918’s expense. Okay, okay Keith is more than ‘not bad,’ – he’s hilarious when he wants to be. He’s great, even. Lance almost can’t believe they weren’t friends before this. “Okay, real talk – who do you think is richer, Allura or Bill Gates?”

Keith seems to think about it for a second. “I’m going to say Bill Gates,” he nods. “I don’t think she’s a billionaire.”

“How much money do you think she has?”

“I don’t know,” Keith leans back, staring at the ceiling. “Hundreds of millions, maybe, but not billions.”

“Okay, so here’s the plan to steal all of her money and run off to Maui…” Lance starts, joking.

“Allura could beat you within an inch of your life,” Keith laughs. “She could so kick your ass.”

“Hey!” he shoots back, straightening up. “I mean, _yes_ , she totally could, but we’re bros now – you’re supposed to have my back.”

“Bros, huh?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. He watches Lance for a moment, lazily, and then slides his hand up his thigh.

The touch is like pure electricity. Lance goes rigid, feeling the warm palm through the material of his jeans, and isn’t sure of what to do. So he just sits there, and then Keith retracts his hand. He doesn’t say anything else about it, and Lance doesn’t either, mainly because his mind shut down when Keith got within four inches of his dick.

Okay – alright…Pidge might have been…a little bit right.

But after that it doesn’t happen again. They just get right back into the McLaren versus Porsche discussion, and Lance comes to terms with the fact that he will eventually go crazy if he and Keith don’t hook up. It’s a little obvious at this point that even Keith is aware of whatever is between them.

Lance equates it to a ticking bomb.

It’s gonna go off soon.

* * *

 

It goes off the next morning.

He does his routine, like normal, and then heads down to breakfast – again, like normal. On the way, however, he hears yelling; it sounds more like martial arts than distress, honestly, but it still leaves him extremely curious. Deep inhales of breath, and then loud exhales; he walks towards the yoga room and closes his eyes as if that will help him hear better. There’s also the soft sounds of a foreign language, muttered under breath. “ _Ichi, ni, san_.” Lance can’t tell what language it is, but it definitely sounds like it’s from the east.

He takes a few steps farther and notices the door is open, so he peaks around the corner.

The yoga room is fairly small, maybe fifteen-by-fifteen, and the only wall not made of mirrors is the one the door is on. This means that Lance can see every goddamned angle of Keith working out. He’s wearing a shirt, but that probably only makes it more erotic – it clings to every inch of skin it covers, over his abs and tight around his biceps. Lance’s mouth feels dry, suddenly, so he swallows, trying not to make any audible noises as Keith kicks high in the air. It’s mesmerizing, almost, to watch him. He’s graceful, but powerful, and honestly this is a thousand times more arousing to him than Nyma sticking his finger in her mouth, and Keith _isn’t even touching him_.

It’s still a little weird to him, this quick shift they’ve made; it’s much harder for him to work up hostility towards Keith now. And now, this. His face feels flushed, muscles tight with some unknown apprehension, and there’s this itch under his skin. It makes him want to run away and take a cold shower, honestly, but he feels like he can’t move away.

Lance can’t even begin to keep up with his movements – he’s quick in any format, either physically or driving a car. He kind of wishes he could move like that, too.

“I know you’re there, Lance,” Keith says once he finishes a quick set of punches.

Lance freezes up, then, feeling a little like a creep. Part of him just wants to run and pretend like he has no idea what Keith means, but the part that wins out has him stepping further into the doorway. “How?”

“I could hear you breathing,” he says, turning to face Lance, stretching his arms across his body. Lance watches more closely than he’d like. “You’re the most unsubtle person I’ve ever met,” he says with a smirk. Lance wonders if that has two meanings.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes and leans against the doorframe nonchalantly. Attempts to, at least; he misses by an inch or two and has to catch himself against the wall. Keith snickers at him, but Lance isn’t even irritated by that. What the fuck? But Keith has a nice smile, he guesses, and he doesn’t see it nearly enough. No one does, he thinks.

“What was that?” He asks, trying to make some conversation so he doesn’t feel so awkward and creepy.

Keith bends down to grab a bottle of water and tips it back, taking large gulps of it. He makes a noise of satisfaction as he pulls it away, shaking his hair out of his face and – holy hell that’s a ponytail. Lance squeaks, but either Keith doesn’t notice or ignores it. Seriously, it should be illegal for Keith to do this to him.

“Karate. I haven’t done it in years, honestly, so I don’t remember much.”

“It looked cool as hell, tbh.”

“Did you just…say an acronym out loud?” Keith asks, incredulous, but his lips curve into a pleased grin. “What a dork.”

“ _I’m_ a dork? Yeah, Allura told me about the new Pandora station you added to the Corvette, Mr. Emo.”

He shrugs, then wipes some sweat off his forehead. “It was nostalgic.”

“Whatever,” Lance says, waving him off. He’s amused, though. “I’m not really athletic at all, though, or else I’d bet you that I could do more push-ups than you.”

Keith snorts. “I doubt you could even if you worked out.”

“ _Wow_. Rude. How many can you do?”

The violet-eyed man looks over at him, smirking, and Lance feels all of his blood run south. “I think I got up to one hundred and thirty once.”

Lance chokes on air – he can’t even stop himself. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he murmurs to himself. This is so bad. So, so bad. “Yeah, well,” he says a little louder, but still weakly. “I could probably do one hundred and thirty-two.”

Keith snickers, hiding his smile behind his hand. “I’m sure you could.”

He’s so proud of himself for his willpower and impulse control, because he _really_ wants to storm in and just kiss Keith’s face. Hard. For a long time. Preferably until he runs out of breath and passes out or something. He wants to take out Keith’s ponytail and run his fingers through that dumb mullet, feel the heat of his body, taste the salt of his skin.

He’s fucked. Really fucked.

His face must betray that, because Keith’s smile slowly fades, and he starts to look a little more confused. He walks forward, and Lance can’t move. He’s stuck to the spot, watching him as he nears, and he realizes that he’s maybe breathing a little heavier than before. “Lance?” Keith asks. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he manages out. “One hundred thousand percent alright. For sure. Ten out of ten, would stay this chill forever.”

Keith blinks at him for a moment, gets closer, closer, and then Lance can smell him and the shitty thing is that he doesn’t even smell _bad_. It’s like pure pheromones. He swallows again, holding onto the doorframe because he feels like he might fall over if he didn’t. All of it is just coiling up inside of him, winding him so tight he feels like he’s going to explode.

“You know,” Keith says then, eyebrows furrowing. “I was always a little pissed at you.”

“Why?” Lance asks, throat tight. Honestly, there are a million reasons Keith should have been pissed at him, but he wonders what’s relevant at this moment. Why that needs to be brought up _now_.

Keith exhales, looks away, and then steps forward again. He is definitely in Lance’s personal space now, and he knows his face is red. He feels so hot he thinks he might die, but if this is what dying is like, he guesses it’s not so bad. “Because you always looked at everyone but me, _tbh_.”

Lance groans, mostly because of the fact that he’s currently so into Keith that it’s blindsided him one-hundred percent. But also because that’s such a dumb thing to say at a moment like this. “Leave the stupid acronyms to me,” he says, but the sounds come out garbled.

They blink at one another for a moment, and Lance knows that neither of them are virgins or anything, but they went from being enemies to – whatever this is – in less than a second. He knows it doesn’t really mean anything, it’s all pheromones and attraction, but still. They’re both a little surprised at what’s happening.

“Fuck,” Lance murmurs, because Keith is suddenly _very_ close. “I’m not dreaming, right?”

“I hope not,” Keith shoots back. Lance remembers their height difference then, sees that Keith is stretching his neck out to get closer, and his fingers tremble as they move up Keith’s arms, slick and hot, run across his shoulders, up his neck, then rest against his jaw. He can’t breathe, it’s too difficult. His heart is pounding in his chest and – and this is _Keith_. Keith, who he would have tried to beat the shit out of a week ago. Who he did try to beat the shit out of a week ago.

Somehow the thought brings him that last little bit closer, and wonders if all along they really were strung out with some weird sexual tension. How long has this been going on, really?

Keith’s arms quickly move up over his and wrap around his neck, playing with the short hairs at his nape, and he kisses like he’s drowning. Like he’s wanted to do this all his life, and Lance wonders how long Keith has craved this. It’s a weird feeling, that someone like Keith may have been kind of into him before all of this, especially when he thought Keith didn’t think anything of him at all. But here they are, and Lance’s eyes are shut tight as their mouths move together. It’s kind of sloppy and kind of coordinated all at once. It’s all experience and instinct and desire rolled into one, and when Keith bites at his lip, Lance gasps, and his hands move all the way from Keith’s jaw to his hips, drawing him closer.

If he was hot before, he feels like he’s on fire now, like lava is rolling through his veins instead of blood. Keith shoves him further into the room before kicking the door shut and slamming him against one of the mirrors, and Lance could sob with how attractive he finds that. He moans instead, gripping onto Keith’s shirt like it’s a lifeline, dragging their mouths together, running his tongue against the seam of his lips. Whatever water he was drinking must have been flavored, because his mouth tastes fresh like cucumber, and he shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest that Keith kisses with a lot of teeth. He doesn’t mind it though, his lips tingling and raw like he had just exfoliated them.

Keith’s hands move up the front of his shirt, fingers dragging the material up and they rest at his collarbones for just a moment before tipping Lance’s head back and kissing down the column of his throat. He uses a lot of teeth, here, too, and Lance honestly couldn’t give two fucks whether he breaks skin or not. Although he realizes belatedly that if Keith marks him that far up, everyone else will see and he’ll have to fess up. Oh well. Worth it.

He also realizes belatedly that Keith is taking control – handling Lance any way he wants - and for some reason he _likes_ that. A lot. His body is sensitive and scorching and Keith’s hands wander up his shirt, trailing fire along the way. He thinks he might combust at this point. Then Keith wiggles a knee between his thighs and Lance’s entire body shudders, head knocking back against the glass. “Fucking _hell_ , Keith.”

Keith just laughs.

“Stop enjoying this so much,” Lance grumbles, but he doesn’t mean it. “But I’m not – ah, fuck! – not surprised you couldn’t stay away from all this.”

“Oh, shut up,” Keith responds, but Lance feels the huff of amusement against his skin. “You’re the worst.”

Lance goes to reply, to say something snarky or sarcastic, but all of his breath leaves him and his fingers grasp at whatever part of Keith they can reach as that thigh moves against him. He angles his body to make it easier, so Keith doesn’t have to lift his leg so high, but the other man doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. His hips cant, lips moving clumsily against the shell of Keith’s ear, biting at the lobe and then dragging his mouth to Keith’s again. He tries to keep his tiny noises to himself, but they escape, and Keith is only spurred on by this, dragging his nails down Lance’s back, and he absolutely keens, body shaking. They keep kissing, though, and it’s more filthy than anything else. He’s pretty sure his bottom lip might have started to bleed at some point, or maybe Keith’s is, but all it does is serve to make him heady. He’s losing himself, moving his mouth away to lean over Keith and pant, eyes shut tight and hands grasping Keith’s biceps, and all rhythm is lost.

Suddenly he really wants to touch Keith. It’s an all-encompassing thing, a need almost. It’s been a little while since he was with a guy, but he craves this. Wants to feel that warm weight in his hand, the slickness and heat.

He’s fumbling then, gasping as he grows more sensitive and nails dragging down Keith’s body as he tries to get his hands on him.

“Keith,” he manages, teeth grit. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me feel like a fucking teenager.”

“What? Rutting against my leg like a virgin? I assumed you were just new to this.”

“Fuck – off! Shit, I’m close. Let me touch you.”

Keith nods, moving his leg away, and Lance instantly groans at the loss of contact. He was _so_ close. He legs are shaking, even. But then Keith’s hand massages against him, and the friction of the cloth has him arching against the glass, biting his bottom lip hard in order to stop himself from making any noise. It’s definitely him that’s bleeding, judging by how slick his lips are. He’s probably only making it worse, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even let himself finish coming down from it before he’s pushing his hand below the hem of Keith’s workout pants, and the other man rests his head against Lance’s shoulder, breathing hot and wet and heavy against him. Lance can feel it through the fabric of his shirt. And yeah – this is nice, in a lot of ways. Keith is hard, hot, slicker than he’d thought, which helps since they don’t have lube and no one likes a dry hand job.

Keith shivers against him as he moves his hand up and down, twisting, pressing his thumb against all of the sensitive spots and finding what Keith likes the most. It’s an awkward angle, so his wrist is protesting almost immediately, but he pushes through it, his other hand reaching around to knead Keith’s ass. Fingernails dig into the skin of his arms, but he doesn’t mind that at all. Just another mark.

When Keith comes, he doesn’t make a sound, but he does bite Lance’s shoulder. “God,” Lance groans, and his voice is thick, husky. “Are you a fucking dog or something? Why do you bite so much?”

Keith is a heavy weight against him, slumped against his body. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Lance withdraws his hand and grimaces, wondering what to do with the mess. “It’s alright,” he says, running his clean hand through Keith’s hair before reaching for one of the towels on the floor and wiping his hand and wrist off. It’s surprisingly gentle, but Lance doesn’t know what else to do. He likes the afterglow, always has, and he likes to relish in it. Keith doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere either, so they just slump to the ground, shoulders knocking against each other as they lean against the glass. “So…that happened…”

Keith closes his eyes for a moment and just breathes before opening them again. “Yeah.”

“It doesn’t like – I mean…” Lance swallows, looking away. He remembers when he thought about the word ‘couple’ yesterday. That terrifies him. “It’s not…”

“I get it,” Keith nods. “It’s not a serious thing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance follows suit, nodding, still breathing a little erratic. “Casual, very casual.”

Keith looks towards him, head rolling against the glass, and his eyes are so fucking bright. They don’t even look real. “I can do casual.”

“Yeah, because – you…you’re still my rival and stuff, you know?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I thought we were over that.”

“Well!” Lance frowns and looks down at where their hands are braced against the floor. They are. Honestly, Lance was totally ready to just be friends. That’s going to be a little harder now. “I can do casual, too, I guess.”

“Good to hear,” the other man says, a slight smile to his voice. He’s being sarcastic, to some degree, but Lance knows it’s all amusement. And he knows Keith doesn’t see them as rivals, never has, but it’s all Lance has ever known about them. And friends can be rivals, right? Well, friends-with-benefits? That was kind of implied, right? But it can be a friendly rivalry. Nothing really has to change.

And okay, kissing Keith is kind of like the best thing he’s ever experienced besides driving that Lamborghini, but that doesn’t have to mean anything, either.

* * *

 

Shiro’s 2000 Pontiac Ram Air Trans Am 

**Color** : Midnight Black 

 **Mods** : Supercharged, hood scoop, headers (open exhaust), Hearst shifter, stick stoppers

 **Transmission** : 6-speed

 **Performance Specs** : HP at 6500 RPMs - 750/ Torque at 4200 RPMs - 750 lb-ft

This car is a fucking beast. I told my dad, who picked Shiro’s car because he used to own one and loved it dearly (but it got stolen in 2006, only a few years before I was able to drive L), to do whatever the fuck he wanted with it and he gave it these specs. I just looked at him and I was like, “Is it even possible to do that to a Pontiac? It has more horsepower AND torque than a Lamborghini” and he laughed and was like, “Just barely. It’s not NOT possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many page breaks in this chapter. But yeah, I actually had a lot of fun going back and writing more background for the Klance because it's like...they now proceed to be the least casual you can possibly be in a FWB situation. But yeah, things move quickly between them, and I need to put a few speed bumps in to slow them down somewhat. 
> 
> Anyway, next time, Lance says it's not a date. (It is a date.)


	6. Stay With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of the chapter titles are actually from songs. I'll start putting the artist in these notes. 
> 
> Stay With You - Coyote Kisses
> 
> Oh and also, I've changed to Monday/Thursday updates bc it's easier

The breakfast table is silent. Considering eight people are sitting at it, not even smushed close considering how large it is, it’s a little disconcerting. Still, he doesn’t say anything, because apparently everyone knows something he doesn’t. So he just keeps eating, breaking apart the fried egg and scooping it into his mouth. Keith is next to him, eating quietly as well, and he can’t stop stealing little glances. He seems a little different, Lance thinks, or maybe that’s all in his head.

He’s chomping down on a piece of bread when Pidge speaks up. “So, Lance – have an eventful night?” They ask, voice strained as if they’re trying very hard not to laugh. Considering their expression, that seems like the very problem.

“Not really?” He did have an eventful morning, though. “Bedroom’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Pidge nods, and now they’re giggling. “Yeah, I bet it is. Tell me, how’s the suspension on the bed?”

“Pidge!” Hunk exclaims, but he’s a little red-faced from holding in laughter as well.

Okay. Weird. He looks over to Keith, wondering if he’s laughing too, but he seems just as lost, staring at Shiro. His brother is just as affected as everyone else seems to be at the table, hiding his grin behind his fist in a very similar likeness to Keith.

So Keith looks over at him, maybe so they can revel in their confusion together, wondering how they got found out, and immediately his fork drops to his plate, clattering loudly. Lance just blinks at him, watching, and he notices Keith’s eyes dip from his face, to his neck, very quickly.

Oh yeah. Well, he didn’t think the bruise would show up this fast. Not enough to be noticeable. Then again, he didn’t really try to cover it up. He barely looked in any of the many mirrors on the wall before they left, laughing as they tried to make sure their clothes were clean and hair was flat.

He shrugs. “Oh, yeah. That.” Lance picks up his piece of bread again and actually gets to bite it this time. “Keith and I hooked up or whatever.”

Allura starts coughing, presumably choking on a piece of her breakfast. Shiro pats her on the back with a worried look. “Lance,” Keith hisses.

“What? It’s not like you were _subtle_ , Keith.” He grins broadly. “I mean, it’s not shocking either. Honestly, it was only a matter of time before he lost himself to lust. It’s me, after all.”

Pidge snorts, but Shay actually giggles good-naturedly. Thank you, Shay.

“Yeah, guys – can’t tease someone who knows how to own the fuck up to their shit,” he laughs, tossing a little piece of bread at Pidge. Keith just shakes his head and buries his face in his hands, as if regretting something. Whatever. Lance knows his friends. At least this way it’ll be over. He and Keith don’t have to be all weird with each other, and Pidge can’t be a little dipshit about it.

They finish their breakfast without another word on the matter.

* * *

 

“Okay, we’ve got about thirty-seven hours to complete everything on these cars,” Allura says. Her hair is tied up tight, and her hands are on her hips. Lance thinks she looks beautiful, but probably not as much as Shiro thinks she does, who literally cannot stop looking at her. Well, that’s something.

It’s the four of them again, plus Hunk. Hunk is a better mechanic than anyone he’s ever seen, and not just because of the engineering experience, so he’s absolutely indispensable in a situation like this. Shay is still inside with the other two, who are still working on the tech shit. Lance can’t understand a lick of that stuff.

“Between the five of us, we should definitely be able to do it, complete with whatever aesthetic mods you want, like paint jobs, but that will certainly have to come last just in case anything goes wrong. We’ll start with the engines. Shiro, what are we looking at?”

“The Aventador has a V12, which is a little more complicated than the ‘Vette’s V8, but we shouldn’t have to do much to either of them since they’re both already turbocharged. Maybe cold-air intake to both, but these are both new so we don’t have to replace any spark plugs or wires. Cold-air intake might take an hour, tops.”

“Okay, good – what about performance wise?”

“I think we can tune the suspension on the Corvette since they tend to have oversteering issues. And we’ll need temperature-controlled brake pads for the Lamborghini because they burn up their breaks quickly. Also, we should change out the hoods on each of them for forced air injection, which means we’ll need to get our hands on some hoods specific to each car.”

“Not a problem,” Allura says. “I can make a few phone calls in a minute.”

“Alright. The exhaust system in the Lamborghini is fine, but definitely headers to the Corvette. Computer chips in each should be completely updated as well, but these are both 2017’s, so that won’t be a problem.”

“Great!” She says, clapping her hands together. “Any questions?” Hunk raises his hand slowly. “Yes?”

“Corvettes can overheat easily, too. We’ll want to do something about that. Keith has a heavy foot, and he’s used to his Mustang.”

Keith frowns. “I can keep it in-line.”

Hunk looks a little nervous; he doesn’t like confrontation. “Sorry! I just – Corvettes tend to have a couple more performance issues than Mustangs or Lamborghinis. I think we should account for everything.”

Keith shrugs then. “Alright, do what you need to.”

After they’ve discussed everything, Allura goes to make the phone calls she was talking about, and Lance walks up to the open rear hood of the Aventador. Keith follows. “It’s so weird and backwards,” he comments.

Lance laughs a little. “It’s pretty different. I think this is the first car I’ve ever driven that didn’t have the engine in front of the cab. But I guess it helps in head-on collisions.”

“Sucks if you get rear-ended, though,” Keith comments idly, looking over the engine.

Lance decides to try something. He grins. “Not if you don’t mind getting rear-ended.”

It takes a moment for Keith to process what he’s said, but then he coughs violently and Lance can see his flush on the tips of his ears. He’s one of those, then – a big tough guy during the act, but a blushing virgin otherwise. He must get easily embarrassed when he doesn’t feel in control. Lance will have to take advantage of that. This gets a different kind of rise out of him, but it’s much better.

His grin stretches as he reaches forward for the engine – the car has been off since last night, so it’s not hot this time, thankfully – hand purposefully brushing against Keith’s on the way. Keith flinches, draws his hand away a little, and glances over at Lance. When he sees the smirk on his face, and harrumphs and knocks Lance’s hand away. “You’ve already looked at this one enough – go look at one of the others.”

“But this is the one I’m driving!”

Keith frowns. “Fine…but stop being an idiot.”

“Didn’t realize accidentally brushing fingertips in a sensual matter counted as being an idiot.”

Keith rolls his eyes. Alright, so just the sides of their hands brushed, but still. It’s funny to see him worked up. “If I had known you would end up like this I would have walked out of the yoga room without even glancing in your direction.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Lance says, completely sure of himself.

Keith looks away, at the wrenches hanging on the wall. “I totally would have.”

“Nope,” Lance shakes his head and bumps their hips together. “I’m too irresistible,” he smirks before walking off towards where Hunk is bent over the Corvette. He doesn’t look back at Keith as he goes, but he can imagine his expression, and he loves it.

“Hey, my man, my main dude.”

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk returns, still hidden behind the hood. “Done teasing Keith?”

“Never,” he shakes his head. “This is fun.”

“Don’t torture the poor guy.” Hunk straightens up, and Lance tries not to laugh at the grease smudged on his face. “He didn’t deserve it before and he definitely doesn’t deserve it now.”

“You take out all my fun,” Lance pouts, leaning over to look at what’s being done. “You’re changing the oil? This thing is brand new.”

“It’s got five thousand miles on it, and Allura can’t remember the last time it was changed.”

“Full synthetic?”

“Oh, for sure. You should never use a blend for a car like this.”

“For real, though.” He pauses. “So what do you think about all this? About it being an open pass and shit?”

Hunk grimaces and nervously wipes his hands on his shirt. “You know what I think. It’s the same thing I always think.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I know you two will win it,” he puts in. “It’s dangerous, but it’s not the first time you’ve done it. You and Keith are great drivers – some of the best. I’m worried about the other people, not you.”

“Yeah, people in LA don’t know how to drive,” he laughs.

“I think that’s anywhere,” Hunk chuckles. “And that Lamborghini is nearly seven feet wide. Narrow traffic is gonna be difficult.”

Hunk’s not kidding. The Aventador is wider than the Corvette by about five inches, and even the Corvette is wide for a sports car. But that’s something to worry about later. “I guess what I’m really worried about isn’t the race…”

“I know. The Galra are…bad news. Dealing with them is trouble.”

“But it’s necessary,” Lance frowns. “If we want Shiro’s car back. And besides, we’ll need to get used to running jobs. They’re not all gonna be as easy as our little street races from before. Stakes are higher.”

Hunk fidgets. “Yeah…”

“Sorry, man – I just…” he trails off. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

“I’m surprised you’re not just pummeling your way through it with false confidence.”

“Oh I will, for everyone else,” he laughs, pushing on Hunk’s shoulder lightly. “But you’re my best friend. We’re supposed to tell each other everything, right?”

“Right,” Hunk nods, smiling.

The hoods arrive by dinner time, and Hunk, Shiro, and Allura work through the meal – Lance knows that he and Keith would probably just get in the way. It’s not that they’re bad mechanics, they’re quite good, but trying to fit too many people around those cars is gonna cause fuck-ups.

Lance is about to go inside and rummage through Allura’s kitchen when Keith catches him by his shoulder. He pauses, and turns to him. “What’s up?”

“I’m – uh…I’m craving Chinese food.”

Lance blinks at him. “Are you inviting me, or rubbing it in my face that you get to eat Chinese food without me?”

Keith laughs a little, on an exhale of breath. “I’m inviting you.”

They’re friends now, right? Friends eat food together and socialize and learn more about each other. That’s a thing. So he supposes that’s fine. “Alright then,” he says, smiling. “We’ll take my EVO. It’s a bit of a drive back to the city, but there’s this cheap Chinese place that I love in Burbank with the best goddamn egg rolls you’ll ever eat.”

Keith smirks. “We’ll see about that.”

He wonders if he should ask about inviting Pidge, or anyone else, but he doesn’t think that’s what Keith meant. And besides, Lance does better when a bunch of people aren’t around and he doesn’t feel forced to shove forth a persona. Talking with Keith leaves him feeling stripped down, but it’s refreshing. He hasn’t really talked with anyone for real except for Hunk, and Pidge on some occasions. It’s nice to be genuine with someone for once. And he and Keith – he feels like they could have a lot in common. He’s spent so long pushing him away that he thinks it’s maybe time to do the opposite.

After grabbing their keys and wallets, Lance bounds back into the garage. “That was quick,” Allura smiles.

“Keith and I are going into the city for dinner.”

“Oh, like a date?” She asks, smiling. “Have fun.”

“ _Not_ a date,” he returns, shaking his head. “Just…just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” Keith agrees.

“It sounds like a date,” Hunk murmurs, and Lance shoots him a dirty look, but ultimately ignores him, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. Keith gets in on the passenger’s side.

“It’s been a while since someone else has ridden in the car with me,” Lance laughs. “But you’re not a normal passenger, so I don’t have to worry about you freaking out on me.”

Keith shakes his head with a laugh. “I don’t know. I _have_ seen the way you drive.”

Lance punches him in the arm. “Hey, not nice. I’m a great driver.”

“You’re okay.”

“Wow. I’m feeling so attacked right now,” he says, mockingly hurt, driving out of the garage. When he gets near to the gates, they open from the proximity; he’s going to have to text Allura to let him back in when they get back, though.

The drive to Burbank is fairly uneventful. Allura hasn’t changed the plates on their personal cars yet, so he has to be somewhat sane while he drives, and Keith only makes a distasteful comment about his wonderful taste in music once.

“What the fuck is this? I can’t understand a word of it.”

“It’s Daddy Yankee.”

“It’s _what_?”

When they finally reach the outskirts of the actual city, traffic slows them down quite a bit. It’s around seven in the evening, so there are a million people all around, and Lance grumbles nonstop as he has to work the gearshift constantly. “Driving a manual in traffic is the _worst_ ,” he spits, and Keith makes a noise of agreement.

The place they end up at is mostly a hole in the wall, like most delicious cheap Chinese restaurants. It’s such a widely known fact that Keith doesn’t even make a face when they park, just unfolds himself and shuts the door. “It wasn’t _too_ bad,” he comments. “I mean, we didn’t crash or anything.”

“Thank you for the praise, Keith,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. “You’ve gotta pay though, since I drove.”

“Was that your plan all along?”

“Only partly,” he grins, and Keith laughs. “Come on. I order a la carte, so get that wallet ready.”

“I’m not surprised.”

The inside is, well, green. That’s the best way to describe it. The floor is made of green carpet, and the walls are green as well. Cheap prints of places that could be China, could be literally any other Asian country, line the walls, and Oriental sounding music plays lightly throughout, barely loud enough to be heard. Lance struts up to the counter.

“Hey, Heng, sup man?”

“Lance,” he smiles. “It’s been a while.”

He shrugs, looking at his fingernails. “Yeah, you know, just been tearing shit up.”

Heng laughs and looks behind him, at Keith. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“ _No_ ,” he coughs out. Why does everyone keep doing that? “That’s…Keith. My friend.”

“Oh, okay,” Heng laughs, seemingly unconvinced. “Take out, or are you eating in?”

“In,” Lance nods, grabbing some menus. “We’ll seat ourselves.”

“Go ahead,” Heng chuckles, gesturing to the mostly empty dining area.

Lance leads him to a table towards the back, with a good view of the television, and falls into one of the chairs. “Always so graceful,” Keith intones, laughing.

“I do my best.”

“So...are you a regular here? Is that how they know you?”

“Ah, used to be,” Lance shrugs, scratching the back of his head. “Haven’t been here in a while.”

“Why not? If you like it so much?”

He sighs and looks at the table, which has a beautiful, very cliché picture of a waterfall on it. “I dated one of the cooks. Heng and I have always been cool, though.”

“It didn’t end well?” Keith asks, tilting his head to the side a little. He looks almost sympathetic.

“Not really,” Lance huffs, leaning back now and staring at the ceiling. He can’t seem to look at Keith. “But it’s in the past.” He looks down again and opens his menu. “Oh,” he says, leaning over the table and manipulating the menu in Keith’s hands. “Page three has their specials. I like the sesame chicken, but it’s all good, really.” He looks up at Keith, grinning, and only then notices how close their faces are. Keith blinks at him for a moment, and then he backs off, back to his seat. Lance keeps his eyes glued to the menu until Heng shows up again to take their order. He’s grinning wildly the whole time. Asshole.

After they order and their drinks come, Lance just watches the tv for a while, but he can’t stand the thought of silence. “So,” he starts, because it’s been at least five minutes straight with no talking and Keith might be alright with that, but he’s not. “Why a Mustang?”

Keith looks up at him from sipping his coke. He leans back in his chair some and shrugs. “I’d always wanted one, I guess. When Shiro asked me to choose from a couple of cars, I picked that one. I liked the color, and it came with some cool aftermarket mods to begin with.” He pauses and laughs lightly. “I know I don’t even _need_ to ask you the same question.”

Lance laughs, too. “Well, the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X has a zero-to-sixty of 4.5 seconds, which is pretty fucking fast considering its frame. Its stock horsepower is moderate because it’s a Japanese import, but it can be easily modded, so mines around an impressive four hundred at thirty-five hundred RPMs. It’s also a four-door and has a lot of space in the back, so – more room for NOS or furniture or chicks or whatever I need to haul around.” Keith laughs. It’s a pretty, tinkling thing. “But yeah, I really did buy it mostly for the name,” he winks. 

Keith smiles at him. “Why did you get into cars, anyway?”

“Ah,” Lance’s smile turns a little sad. He’s quiet for a moment, deliberating whether or not to really explain. He decides it doesn’t matter, and that Keith and he are friends now, so he can go on. “Well, I was twelve, and my dad was still around. He was – he was this big tough guy, you know? Went around calling all the white people ‘ _pinches_ _gringos’_ and the gays ‘fags’ and didn’t stand down for anything.” Keith frowns a little. “I always hated him, really. Not just for the obvious reasons, him being an asshole and everything, I just – I didn’t like him. Anyway, one day he stuck me behind the wheel of his old ass Firebird and told me to go. I kept stalling the car, but he just kept on me about it. All day long, until I could finally get it in first and actually go somewhere. And I swear, that was the only time he ever smiled at me.” He swirls around the water in his cup with his straw.

“What happened to him?”

“He left,” Lance shrugs. “It was only a matter of time. He and my _mamá_ , they fought all the time, and he never really gave a damn about any of us. So yeah, he left just after I turned fourteen, and then my family just kind of…collapsed, I guess. There’s four kids including me, and there’s no way my mom would have been able to take care of us alone, so I started getting into all kinds of shady shit to help pay for us. I was in my first race before I even turned sixteen, and after that I was hooked. The adrenaline, the praise when I won – it was all something I never knew I craved. But it was too much for everyone else, so I had to leave. I – you know, I just never really wanted them to see what I became.”

Keith just looks at him for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in the universal expression of sympathy. “You’re a great driver, Lance. That’s what you became.”

He laughs, sardonically. “We’re fucking criminals, Keith.”

“We just race.”

“For how long, huh?” He rests his chin on his palm. “Now that we’re running gigs for Allura, how long until our rap sheet grows?”

Keith looks down at the table, eyes scanning the scenery. He doesn’t talk for a long moment. “We do what we have to do to survive. No matter what the reasons are. I know that for me, driving became something to get me closer to my brother, and then after he left, it was all I had of him, but things are different now. He’s back, but I still never want to give it up. You started racing for your family, to support them, and that’s…not a bad reason, Lance. You’re not in this life because you’re a bad person.”

He sighs and looks away. “Feels like it sometimes.”

“It shouldn’t.”

He feels the soft pads of Keith’s fingertips against his hand resting on the table, and the touch is fairly comforting. “How are you so sure?” Lance asks, looking at their hands, the contrast of skin tones, how pretty they look together. “How are you so sure that I’m not a bad person? You don’t even know me.”

Keith wraps his hand around Lance’s, thumb brushing against his skin. It’s…intimate. It’s _too_ intimate, but he can’t pull away. He misses intimacy. He really does. It’s been a really long fucking time. “Because bad people don’t smile like you do.”

Fucking hell. _Fuck_. There goes his heart rate, right through the roof. It’s so much, so fucking much. He feels like running away again, but there are several reasons why he can’t. Why he shouldn’t. Why he won’t.

They look at each other for a moment, and then Lance notices movement in the corner of his eye, so he looks over to find Heng holding their tray of food with a shit-eating grin on his face. Lance just huffs and leans back in his chair, clearing space for his plate. Keith slowly moves his hand back and does the same.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Heng says, haughty, before turning around and walking back to the counter on the other side of the restaurant, relaxing against wall and smirking at him.

“Fucking Heng,” Lance snarls under his breath. Keith glances up at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, uh,” the other man starts after a moment, a little awkwardly. “Your neck – does it hurt?”

Lance pauses, looking up from his fried rice and then gently touching the bruise that rests just below his jawline. “Not really,” he shrugs. “I keep forgetting it’s there until someone reminds me. It stings a little to the touch, though.”

“Sorry, it’s – I don’t know, like a habit or something.”

“It’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving Keith off and shoveling a huge bite of food into his mouth. After he swallows, he continues with, “If I had wanted to stop, I would have said so.”

“Good,” Keith nods. “Good.”

It’s not really conversation for the dinner table, or Lance might have told him just how much he _didn’t_ want Keith to stop, but he holds the thought to himself. He can tell him later, he guesses.

Speaking of, how does one bring up wanting to hook up again in a situation like this? Is it like in a regular, romantic relationship? Or are there all kinds of rules about it? Then again, it sounds like Keith is letting Lance create most of the boundaries from the way things have been going, which is something he can work with.

“So, go on!” He says then, gesturing to Keith’s egg roll. “Try it!”

Keith gives him an amused little smile and a huff of laughter before picking up and going to bite it.

This is when Lance realizes he fucked up.

So, never in his twenty-two, going on twenty-three years of life, has he thought of eating an egg roll as erotic. There shouldn’t have been any reason to to begin with, and there probably shouldn’t be one now. But he’s borderline depraved on the best of days and – it is kind of a big egg roll? Anyway, he immediately reaches across the table to snatch the offending food item right from Keith’s mouth.

For a second they just look at each other. Lance isn’t sure of what kind of expression he’s wearing, but Keith looks rightfully confused. Very, very confused. He looks down at where Lance is holding his egg roll, leaned so far forward that his chest is almost in his own plate of sesame chicken, and just blinks a lot. “…What?”

“That’s – that’s, um.”

“ _What_?”

“That’s not how you eat an egg roll.”

“I… _what_?” he asks again, as if he’s forgotten other words. But he hasn’t. “I’m Asian! You – you can’t…tell me how to eat an _egg roll_ for…for so many reasons. That’s like…a rule.”

“I don’t care! You can tell me how to eat an enchilada or something! Just, just here, watch, let me show you.”

 Keith doesn’t seem to know how to respond to any of this. He looks so goddamn lost that it’s almost cute, but Lance just focuses on setting the egg roll back on Keith’s plate and leaning back to demonstrate the least sexual way to eat an egg roll that he can think of. By breaking it into pieces with a fork.

“So. You’re telling me that the traditional way to eat an egg roll…is with a fork.”

“Yes.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, eyebrows furrowed, and then he pauses. He looks at Lance for a long moment, then the egg roll, then back up at Lance, and then he breaks down into laughter. Absolutely loses it. Doubles over, trying to breathe in between each laugh, and Lance idly thinks he’s beautiful.

When he calms down a moment later, he bites down on his bottom lip and wipes a tear or two from his eyes. “You’re so fucking _stupid_ ,” he says, still hiccupping with laughter. “It’s an _egg roll_ , Lance. I’m not deep-throating a banana.”

He flushes a little. “Listen, it’s not my fault. You look good when eating _anything_ , let alone something…like that. If you tried, you could make sipping a drink with a straw erotic!” Keith looks down at his coke. “Don’t try it!”

Keith laughs again, softer this time, and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.” But his voice sounds a little fond. Nonetheless, he picks up the egg roll again and eats it how it’s genuinely supposed to be eaten. Lance just does his best not to pay attention to it. “Well, you were right about _one_ thing,” Keith says after a moment. “This is the best goddamn egg roll I’ve ever had in my life.”

After they’ve finished and Keith has paid, they walk back out the car, Lance groaning the entire way. “Why’d you make me eat so much, Keith? Now I feel sick.”

“I’m just terrible like that.”

“I know.”

Keith just laughs, and they climb back into the EVO. “We headed back?” Keith asks, leaning back into the seat comfortably. Lance checks the clock on the dashboard and shrugs.

“It’s only eight-thirty. Which is like ten AM in Los Angeles time.”

“Wanna go see if we can find a race?”

“Fuck yes.”

* * *

 

He turns his music loud again, even though Keith is in the car. He has to. It’s like his thing. The people part for him like they usually do, and he pulls up with the other four cars before stepping out. He doesn’t know any of the racers here, or the orchestrator, which means only one thing: he’s gonna come in first by at least five seconds. A decade in racing time.

He goes up to the guy running everything, who looks a little confused and maybe put off considering the pass was set up for four people, but then he takes his ownership papers out of his pocket and hands them over. “I don’t care what the pot is. Pink slip should cover it?”

The dude raises an eyebrow at him, but then shrugs and okays him for the race. Laughing, almost giggling, he runs back to the EVO and climbs in.

“You’re crazy!” Keith laughs. “If you lose, you lose this car!”

Lance looks over at him with a grin. “Do you really think I’m gonna lose?”

Keith looks at the other drivers, and then leans back against the seat and smiles brightly. “No.”

“Of course not. Make sure to hold on, _Cariño._ ”

Keith blinks at him for a moment, his smile turning a little more sheepish, and makes sure his seatbelt is tightened. Lance doesn’t let himself think too hard about the pet name.

There’s a scantily clad girl with a flag, showing them the starting point, and he lines up with everyone else. It’s a little bit of a tight fit, since there’s really only room for four cars comfortably, but he makes it work. The girl raises her arm high in the air, yellow and black checkered flag moving slowly with the night breeze, and then in a single second it’s lowered and they’re off.

Keith seems to be enjoying being a passenger, laughing and hollering at the other racers and Lance easily overtakes them. He shifts into third quickly, needle quivering and raising as he pushes his EVO to her limit. He might be showing off a little, but whatever.

He speeds down the closed pass, shifting again and pushing down on the throttle until he reaches one-ten, and he’s zipping by everything so quickly. He chances looking over at Keith for a moment, noticing his eyes are closed, but the biggest grin is on his face, and Lance rolls down the windows, which is probably stupid considering how fast they’re going, to take in the moment. He takes the final turn, at least three car lengths ahead of the other drivers, and downshifts, getting ready for the finish line.

He slows down as he reaches it, and then pulls his E-brake, letting the car’s rear wheels sweep out from behind him as he flicks the steering wheel. The EVO lurches around, doing a complete three-sixty – his form of a touchdown celebration.

He’s cracking up laughing, the adrenaline still flitting through his veins, and then he and Keith are kissing, leaned over the center console in a really uncomfortable way, but mouths slotted together, tongues flicking for a moment before he backs off and gets out of the car to collect his winnings. It was a relatively small pot, definitely not worth losing his car over, but hey, at least he’s got an extra twenty grand now.

When he climbs back in, Keith is leaned against the seat, breathing heavy, still laughing softly, and Lance wants to kiss him again, but thinks better of it. He moves the car through the sea of people, and then gets back on the interstate towards Malibu.

The car is quiet while they drive, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift; he’s still coming down from all of it, but finds that the quiet is kind of nice this time. “I wonder if they’ll be curious about what took us so long.” Keith says, voice soft enough that it doesn’t intrude on the moment.

“I doubt it,” Lance chuckles, moving into the left lane to overtake a slow driver. “Pidge and Hunk are used to me running off with some hot babe and not showing up for hours after.”

“I’m a hot babe, then?”

“Oh, for sure. It’s the mullet, I think.”

Keith laughs and flicks him in the cheek.

They shoot a text off to Allura when they get close, letting her know to keep the gates open for them, and roll in as quietly as they can. It’s nearing eleven now, so everyone is probably still up, but he still tries not to be too loud. The garage doors are open, revealing the three as he and Keith left them, and they park and pointedly ignores any and all looks shot their way before going inside.

And to their credit, they do make it back to Lance’s bedroom before they start making out again.

He kind of wonders if he should close the shutters, but there are like four windows in the room and that would require detaching himself from Keith, so that’s a no-go. Besides, the dark ocean outside is beautiful, and kind of sets the mood.

Keith laughs when Lance blows a raspberry against the side of his neck after pushing him back on the bed and crawling over him. His hands wander down Lance’s back, softly, and then when they get to the hem of his shirt, they move back up to pull it off of his body. Lance complies, leaning back a little to get it off, and then tosses it to the side and pulls Keith’s off as well.

They roll around for a while, just kissing, touching, still working off some of the energy from earlier, but they never really go beyond that. Lance wonders if that’s weird. If that’s in the rule book. He doesn’t let it bother him too much, just keeps pressing open mouthed kisses to Keith’s pretty skin, leaving dark marks so that they can match, and Keith lets him, sighing happily every time a new bruise is left. Short fingernails scratch against his scalp, and he murmurs little silly things over and over again, until they’re so tired that they decide it’s not worth it for Keith to go back to his own room, and they fall asleep.

That’s definitely not in the rule book, but Lance doesn’t give a fuck.

* * *

 

Lance's 2012 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X

**Color** : Cobalt Blue

 **Mods:** Hood scoops, rear spoiler, turbocharged 

 **Transmission:** 6-Speed Manual 

 **Performance Specs:** HP at 3500 RPMS - 400/ Torque at 4200 RPMs - 500 lb-ft

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god tragedy has befallen me. My poor mustang, after many years, is finally on her last legs...I am very sad. Now I'm on the search for a new car, but those are very expensive. Still, I have been looking at that Mitsubishi Lancer...and I've also considered drawing a picture for each of the characters and their cars? but goddamn cars are hard to draw 
> 
> Anyway, next time, we get some morning sex and a race. Who do you think is gonna win?


	7. Hypnotic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hypnotic - Zella Day 
> 
> “You took to me so well  
> Hypnotic, taking over me  
> Make me feel like someone else  
> You got me talking in my sleep”
> 
> “I don't wanna come back down  
> I don't wanna touch the ground  
> Pacific Ocean, dug so deep  
> Hypnotic, taking over me”

He wakes up in the morning because of the bright light, but it’s so warm underneath the comforter that he doesn’t want to move. He feels like he’s enveloped in a cocoon, a soft woodsy scent that is slightly unfamiliar but totally welcomed pressing in on all of his senses; smooth, overheated skin is pressed against him, sticking almost, seeing as it feels like a space heater under here. He blinks his eyes open to see Keith on the pillow next to him, curled up into a ball, gripping the blankets in his hands and dark hair feathered out on the tan sheets. He looks just as pretty when he’s asleep as when he’s awake, Lance thinks. Maybe prettier. He inhales and exhales softly, little tiny puffs of air shuffling out between his parted lips to flutter against the pillow, brow relaxed – if Lance was an artist, he might be inspired.

Oh, he’s getting too comfortable with it all way too fast. He needs to kick Keith out, tell him to go back to his room, all because he wants him to stay. He really, really wants him to stay.

He thinks it probably has the most to do with the fact that it’s been ages since he’d had this. He’s a social creature, and Keith – okay, Keith is a better guy than he ever gave him credit for. He’s gorgeous, and a great driver, and….nice. Which is kind of hard to find considering the people he surrounds himself with.

He doesn’t want a relationship, because he sucks at those. Doesn’t know the first thing about them. But he’s good at being friends with people. So theoretically, it should work better if they keep away from all romantic territory, and that includes brushing Keith’s hair out of his face and kissing him with a, “Good Morning.”  

Which he does anyway, because he’s a glutton for punishment.

Keith’s violet eyes slowly blink open, and then he smiles, and it’s such a sweet expression that Lance feels everything in him stop. “Morning,” Keith replies, voice raw with disuse. Lance swallows, and goes to move away, but Keith follows, leaning over him and kissing him chastely. Their eyes lock, and for a moment they watch each other, Lance becoming more antsy by the second. Keith is beautiful, too beautiful, and looking at him for too long is like looking at the sun for too long, and on some basic instinct Lance has to close his eyes.

The moment is something he decidedly lables as Too Much, so he gives him a deeper kiss, running his tongue along the roof of Keith’s mouth and slowly pushing his hands down the back of his pants.

Keith moans, so Lance takes it that he appreciates the action. He repeats it, then backs off for a smaller series of kisses down to his jawline. Keith bares his throat to him, and in the morning light, Lance can see the constellations that he left against the pale skin last night. He kisses each and every star.

Keith shivers as he licks softly over the bruises, and grinds his hips down against Lance’s with more strength than Lance thinks should normally be available this soon after waking up. It makes him gasp, and he rolls his hips back up, chasing that friction. “Lance,” Keith whispers, hoarsely, and Lance has never loved the way his named sounded more. They pick up a loose rhythm, moving against each other lazily, but with purpose, though after maybe about forty seconds of this Lance starts to feel the desperation, licking into Keith’s mouth as he shoves his hips up. He lets out a long, low groan, nails digging into Keith’s skin, and the other man keens, hips snapping hard against his. “Lance,” he says again, urgently. “Lance, _fuck me_.” He pauses at this, a little stunned, and Keith seems to come back to himself in the silence. He looks a little sheepish. “Fuck, sorry.”

“No, no,” Lance laughs breathlessly. “Don’t apologize. That was – that was really hot. But I don’t. Like. Have condoms and lube and shit right now? It’s all back at my house.” Those are the kind of non-negotiable things they need for such an act.

“Oh,” Keith nods, quickly. “Yeah. Yes, of course.” But Lance desperately wants to get back to where they were, so he flips them over, towering over Keith and wrapping his legs around his waist. His thighs feel solid, strong against him, and Lance ducks down to kiss him deeply as he grinds against him again. “Closer,” Keith whimpers. “ _More_.”

“I love the way you sound,” Lance smirks against his cheek, but then he leans back to oblige. And taking off his pants is a sensation he never thought he could appreciate as much as this. He didn’t even realize how confining they were until they weren’t. After he’s completely naked, he does the same to Keith, wiggling his tight pants down his hips and kissing at his chest as he does so. As soon as those are off he’s right back to it, wrapping a hand around their erections and sliding them together.

Keith arches up against him, hands scrambling for purchase on his skin, and he gasps as they rock together. He’s more vocal now than he’s ever been, not that Lance has a lot of history to work off of, but if this is what Keith sounds like now, he really wants to fuck him. He bets Keith sounds beautiful while he’s being fucked. And he hopes for everyone else’s sake that these walls are soundproof, because he won’t be holding back in the slightest.

They were already so worked up when they got naked that Lance wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t last more than another minute or two, but for now it’s heaven; Keith’s nails digging into his skin, his breath hot and heavy against his mouth as their lips hover over each other, the way their skin glides together. It’s hot in here, and sweaty, and he loves it. Loves the smell and taste of Keith’s skin, the way it feels to be close to him. He adores it, and he doesn’t want to let it go.

But then Keith’s nails are digging into his arms almost painfully and his back is arching and he’s coming, mouth open in a soundless moan, eyes shut tight and hair sticking to his skin. It’s probably the most beautiful goddamn thing Lance has ever seen.

Lance strokes him through it for a moment and then backs off, but Keith follows, hand reaching to finish him. Lance braces his arms on either side of Keith’s shoulders, panting, eyes closed, and it doesn’t take him long at all after Keith whispers, “Come for me, Lance.”

He catches himself right before he falls totally on top of Keith, whose abdomen and stomach are covered in come. It probably could be erotic in the right situation, but mostly he just feels bad for him.

“Hold on,” Lance says before walking into the adjoining bathroom and grabbing a towel to clean him up.

“Thanks,” Keith says lowly, pushing himself to sit against the pillows. He just watches Lance as he balls up the towel and puts it in what he assumes to be a laundry basket, and when he finishes he walks back to the bed and dives under the covers. For a moment they’re quiet, not even touching, but then Keith slowly moves so that his head can rest against Lance’s shoulder. He sucks in a small breath, but shuffles a little bit closer as well, so that they’re touching almost all the way down their sides. “The race is tonight,” Keith whispers then.

Lance stares down at where their hands are brushing, but not holding. “Yeah…you nervous?”

“A little,” he admits with a laugh. “These are the people that took my brother, you know?”

“Mmm,” he agrees, nodding, his head moving against the top of Keith’s. “But we’ll be alright. We’re basically the best there is. The Stig couldn’t even beat us in a race.”

“Are you making Top Gear references now?”

“It’s safe to assume I’m nearly always making a reference to something.”

“Good to know. Also, the Stig might not be able to, but his American cousin might.”

“We don’t talk about Top Gear USA.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“We don’t talk about it.”

“Okay,” Keith laughs, fingers nudging his. On something resembling instinct, their hands fold together. “You know, I…sometimes I think about this, about all of it, and it just seems…too good to be true. Like, my brother is back, and we’re living in this life of luxury, and – you know – _this_ , or whatever. It seems like a miracle, like something I would have laughed at a month ago.”

Lance agrees, but he can’t say that out loud. He doesn’t know why, he just can’t. So instead, he nods. Keith’s grip on his hand tightens. 

* * *

 

When they finally decide to greet the rest of the world, they find that Shiro, Allura, and Hunk are already in the garage. “Sleep well?” Allura asks, but Lance just flips her off. She gasps in mock offense before laughing and getting back to whatever she was doing. “Well, we’ve finished most of the mechanical aspects,” she tells them, over the engine of the Corvette. She looks like she’s mostly doing a final check, to make sure important things like the brake line are still intact. “Would you like to do the paint job, now?”

Lance bounds forward, immediately forgiving her, nodding quickly. “Yes, yes, _yes_!”

“Alright,” she chuckles, holding out a hand to calm him. “We’ll have to take it to a special place, but it’s not too far from here, honestly. Just a few miles north. Lance, you and I will take the Aventador, Shiro and Keith can take the Corvette.”

“What about my main man?” Lance asks, sticking out his bottom lip. This is a momentous day, he doesn’t want his best friend to be left behind.

“I promised Shay I’d take her out to a lunch on the beach. I have to start cooking now to have it all ready in time.”

“Whatever, you romantic. I can’t believe this. Betrayed. Slighted. _Deceived_. Go make your woman some food, Gordon Ramsay.”

“Why, Hunk is nothing at all like Gordon Ramsay!” Allura exclaims.

“Well, it’s the only chef I know, so it’s who that _traitor_ is getting.” He pauses. “Wait, I’m so proud. You understood my reference!”

“Well, yes. I’ve met Gordon.”

Lance blinks at her. “You know what? I’m not even gonna comment on that. You’re rich and powerful, I need to get that in my head.”

The detail shop is close, Allura was right. And when they show up, the guy isn’t even shocked to see a Lamborghini roll in. This _is_ SoCal, Lance guesses, but still. He would have been surprised to see a Lamborghini roll into their garage.

They take it into a rather small room, with plastic covering all the walls, floor, and ceiling, for easy cleanup. Masks are put on, and the guy even gives Lance a turn with the gun, letting him spray a thick line before stealing it back from him lest he give it a streaky coat. He thinks he would probably be fine, but Allura insists as well, so he backs off and just watches as the Lamborghini turns a beautiful chrome blue. Fuck, it looks so cool. Chrome is something that they could kind of agree on; not too flashy, but not boring, either.

The Corvette gets a turn next, and when it emerges it’s a pretty matte red. It’s a few hours before it’s dry enough to actually drive back to Allura’s, but even then they have to be careful touching it. Shiro thinks they should be completely dry by tonight, though.

By the time they leave it’s well after lunch, so Keith and Lance make a fast food run for everyone in the Mustang after they get back, and Lance would like to think that he shows off as much as Lance had the previous night. It leaves him a little giddy, and they kiss at the final red light before the house.

For the final few hours before the race, they all sit together and discuss the plan, Pidge giving them a run down on the way that their earpieces work, and telling them to not be gross over the com. Lance pointedly does not promise anything. He’s pretty sure Pidge notices.

And then it’s time to leave, and Lance is doing a really shitty job of quelling his nerves. Keith stands close to him in the garage while another final check is done on the cars, and their fingers twitch and brush every so often. They tangle for just a moment, and then release. Then tangle again, and stay that way for at least a full minute before they let go again, as if they can’t decide that kind of thing is alright. Lance thinks it isn’t, but he wants it anyway, so he lets it happen. Keith doesn’t pull away again.

No one says anything at all, thankfully, and just before it’s time for them to get in the cars and go, Keith gives him one short kiss on the side of his mouth and a, “Good luck,” before fitting in his earpiece and climbing into the Corvette. Lance just stands there for a moment, staring at the red door of the car, before realizing everyone is looking at him, and he rushes to the Aventador.

* * *

 

The Lamborghini’s ride is so goddamn smooth it doesn’t even feel like he’s driving. Feels more like floating. It’s almost silent, too, which provides just as much effect as Keith’s loud as fuck Mustang. He uses the Bluetooth to stream music from his phone, though, which negates most of the silence since he’s blaring Kanye. He always feels powerful when he listens to him – like, if Kanye can love himself that much and revere himself as a god, Lance can, too. And he also doesn’t have to think about that kiss. Because it’s important not to get distracted right now.

There’s a much smaller crowd at this pass, probably because it’s a little more exclusive. As he looks around, he notices a uniformity, and the way that everyone is showing off a purple bat tattoo in some way or another.

“ _Lance, can you turn down that crap?_ ” Pidge snaps in his ear.

He flinches, only because he forgot about the earpiece. “Crap? _Crap_? It’s Kanye. Basically a gift to the universe.”

 _“ **Lance, turn it down, you’re drawing attention to yourself** ,”_ Keith grumbles, too. Lance mocks him, sneering, but turns it down until it’s just background noise. “ ** _Do you notice how weird this all is?_** _”_

“Yeah,” he replies with a slight sigh.

“ _What do you mean?_ ” Pidge asks.

 **“ _Everyone…looks the same_ ,”** Keith tells them. **“ _They all have the same tattoo, too_.”**

Allura pipes in **. “Yes, that is their mark. A coat of arms of sorts. It’s been with them for a very long time.”**

Lance pulls up to where the other two cars are, and then immediately ducks down. “Fuck,” he snarls.

 **“What? What’s wrong?”** Allura asks.

“Keith, look to the left. By the red Nissan 240!”

“ ** _Shit_**.” Keith deadpans. “ ** _It’s Nyma_**.”

“Yeah, and who the fuck is she with?! God, are they trying to eat each other? Whatever. I like, don’t even care. Not even a little bit. I am the master of chill. Who cares if she hooked up with someone else? It’s like, not even a big deal. Like, whatever, you know?” He’s hooked up with someone else too, so it’s totally even. With someone way hotter than either of them.

**“ _Lance, shut up! Do you see Rolo anywhere?_ ” **

“No, but he’s probably around.”

“ _You can’t let them see you!_ ” Pidge exclaims. “ _They’ll recognize you immediately. It’s a good thing you didn’t bring your regular cars. They shouldn’t even suspect that it’s you unless you, I don’t know, blare rap music and make everyone in a three mile diameter look for the source._ ”

Lance huffs.

**“ _How are we supposed to be a part of the race without them seeing us?”_ **

“We’ll have to be sneaky,” Lance says, grimacing. He doesn’t like this at all. He leans back in his seat a little bit and stares at the roof of the car.

 **“ _Hey, Lance, do you think that guy by the BMW is…?_ ”** Keith starts, and Lance immediately looks around a little bit before finding who he’s most likely talking about.

The guy is tall. Like, really tall. Probably somewhere around six-foot-five or so, with spikey hair and just…all around very scary looking. There’s the bat tattoo on his upper arm, but it’s more intricate than the others; he’s leaning against a purple BMW M5 with white decals, surrounded by a couple of people, counting money.

 **“ _We’re gonna have to talk to him…_ ”** Keith says, voice low. **“ _We have to add whatever bid to the pot and introduce ourselves if he’s the one that’ll get us in with them_.” **

Lance does not like that he’s right. Getting out of the car will make them vulnerable, make them easy to spot. But he knows they have to.

“Alright,” he says, sucking in a breath. “Just…we have to act…casual. Don’t look like we’re in the belly of the beast. Normal criminals.” He pauses, then groans. “Keith.”

**“ _What_?”**

“Look at probably-Sendak’s hip.”

**“ _Why? – oh…fuck_.” **

The holster on his hip isn’t super easy to notice, but it’s not hidden either. It’s obviously there for some show of power. “ _What’s wrong?”_

Lance looks around. “There’s…a lot of heat here.”

“ _You mean they’re packing?_ ” Pidge asks.

 **“ _Yeah, like, everyone is, now that I’m looking_ ,”** Keith says.

 **“Alright,”** Allura says, voice soothing. **“Just be careful. You have weapons in the car if you need them.”**

“What?!” Lance yelps, looking at the glovebox.

 **“I thought it would be nice to have them just in case,”** she says simply. With jerky movements he jolts forward to open the compartment. There, in the dark confines, is what looks like a glock. Great. He doesn’t hate guns – quite likes them to a degree – but this one here is obviously for, like, hurting humans. He likes his rifle. Which is not used to kill people, but just for the shooting range. He’s got a license for it and everything. Not even illegally owned.

 **“ _I hate guns_ ,”** Keith says, and Lance can hear the grimace in his voice.

 **“I don’t like them either,”** Allura tells him. **“But trust me, sometimes it’s best to go in with some sort of protection.”**

Lance gets it, and he appreciates it, but he’s leaving the gun in the glovebox for now. “Thanks,” he tells her. “But let’s try it without them first.”

 **“ _Okay_ ,”** Keith says. **“ _Alright, let’s go_.”**

Lance inhales deeply and grabs the rolls of money before getting out, sliding the door upwards and straightening himself out. He doesn’t take the time to look around, just walks straight up to probably-Sendak. He watches the both of them as they move, lazily almost, and when they both get close enough, he steps away from the people around him.

“Nice cars,” he says. Then he narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”

Well, it’s time to finally use that big bravado everyone says he has. “We’re here for the pass.” He holds out the money. “We’re buying in.”

Probably-Sendak eyes the money, then looks back up at them. Lance does his best to look as lazy and unaffected as he does. Then the guy smiles a little and gestures for two of the girls from his right to grab the bids from both of them. “Trying to maintain mysterious?” He asks. “Think you’re tough?” Lance just holds his head up a little higher. He doesn’t look at Keith to see how he’s fairing. “That’s fine – we’ll let your cars tell us who you really are. If you’re here, then I’m sure you know why. First person to get to the finish gets the pot and a spot in the next race.” He looks at Lance. “Your car’s got sat nav.” Then he looks at Keith. “Yours doesn’t, but I’m sure you have something else. If not, good luck reading a map while driving,” he grins.

Everyone’s got a smartphone these days, thankfully, or Lance thinks Keith really would be fucked. In the bad way.

“Alright,” probably-Sendak says then, nodding towards their cars. “The race starts at midnight. Do what you need to until then.”

Lance nods and then turns on his heel and starts walking back to the Lamborghini. He looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye, but the guy isn’t looking at him this time. He takes the opportunity to look a bit longer, take in his features, and then looks away finally when he gets to his car. He climbs in, and then slides the door shut and lets out a heavy breath.

 **“You did great,”** Allura says in his ear. **“Now just sit tight until everything starts.”**

Lance needs to talk a little to calm down before he starts driving. This is going to be a hard pass. He needs to be able to focus. “So you think that’s Sendak?” He asks Keith.

 **“ _Yeah_ ,”** he says, and Lance looks through the window to try and see him, but there’s too much tint. It’s too dark. He’s really tempted to tell him to roll down the window, but they could be seen if they do that. **“ _It looks like he’s heading everything. Everyone’s swarmed around him.”_ **

“You do realize,” he starts then. “That you’re gonna be losing this.” He smirks.

He can almost hear Keith’s smile. **“ _All you’ve ever seen are my taillights, and that’s all you’re ever gonna see._ ” **

“Well, I’m honored. You’ve got some pretty nice taillights.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Pidge groans. “ _Keep the flirting away from where the rest of us can hear_.”

He just grins, imagines Keith is maybe doing the same. Or maybe he’s embarrassed? Either way, Lance is enjoying this. It calms him down a little. Brings him into familiar territory. He doesn’t have to think about the way that kiss was totally out of nowhere and a little _too_ not-casual for him. And the way he didn’t mind at all. “Flirting?” He asks, fake-appalled. “Well, I never. I’ll have you know, Keith and I can’t stand each other. Where have you been standing?”

“ _In direct line of sight of the monster hickey on your neck_ ,” Pidge says drily. Allura snickers over the com.

“This was an octopus related incident.”

“ _Stop quoting movies all the time, Lance_.”

“I can’t, it’s an addiction.”

Keith laughs lowly, and Lance smiles. It looks like both of them have loosened up a little. He looks at the clock in the middle of the dashboard and notices they only have a few more minutes left. It might be a little suspicious to be staying in their cars, but the Galrans at the race last week didn’t introduce themselves, so they shouldn’t have to either.

Then he realizes something. The drivers – they pulled off before the end of the race. Why? “Keith,” he says, and there’s a slight tremble in his voice. “Remem- uh – remember what Sendak said?”

**“ _Which part_?”**

“That he was gonna let our cars do the talking for us or whatever?”

**“ _That they were gonna show him who we really are_.”**

“Right, that. Well…do you think maybe those Galrans at our last race…were there to learn how we drive? That’s why they didn’t care about the finish. Maybe they’ve been doing that at passes around the city.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Pidge whispers. “ _Lance, you’re always smart at the worst goddamn times._ ”

“ _Cojeme_ ,” he mutters. “Sorry about that, but, uh, what are we gonna do about this?”

 **“Try to stay out of sight as much as possible, I guess,”** Allura puts in. **“If they know how you drive, just make sure not to show them.”**

And now he’s stressed again. Awesome. “Great, uh, right. I’ll do that.”

 **“ _It’ll be alright_ ,”** Keith says, and his voice is actually somewhat soothing. Lance takes a breath. **“ _We’re good drivers. We can switch up our style a little. Just use your stick-stoppers to start. You never have those on your cars. And we’ll be off-route a little bit anyway._ ”**

He nods, even though Keith can’t see him. “Yeah, alright.” He leans his head back against the seat. It’s so comfortable in this car. “Cool, I can do that.”

**“ _Good. You’ll do fine_.” **

Keith is so weirdly nice now. But maybe he’s always been nice and Lance has been an asshole to him too long. “I’ll do great, you mean.”

 **“ _Yeah_ ,”** he laughs. **“ _That’s what I meant_.”**

He smiles, and then sits straight, hands on the wheel. “Let’s do this,” he says, feeling a little more determined.

There are no girls spray-painting a starting line this time. Regardless, they line up evenly when it’s time, and when one of Sendak’s girls walks out, she stands right in the middle of the four, in between him and Keith. That’s…dangerous, but okay. He guesses she trusts them not to run over her.

“ _Alright, remember to listen closely for your name,_ ” Pidge says in his ear. “ _For instance, Lance, you’ll be making the first detour. A right on Cardinal. I’ll let you know when you get close. Keith, your first detour will be a slight left onto the freeway._ ”

Keith doesn’t respond, but Lance hears an exhale of shaky breath. **“And pay attention to traffic,”** Allura puts in. **“None of this will mean anything if you lose focus and get in an accident.”**

Lance has been in quite a few accidents, and they’re never fun, but he’s kind of used to it. Nonetheless, Allura is right. One of them needs to win this race. He needs to win this. No matter what happened between them. No matter how nice Keith is being to him.

He revs his engine, locking the front brakes but letting his rear wheels go wild, and the girl counts down on her fingers. One-two-three, and her hand comes down.

When he releases the front breaks, the car shoots off. He’s never been in anything so fast, and the sudden lurching movement makes him a little nauseated, but he doesn’t pay attention to that. He follows the road, clear at first, but as it meets the main drag more cars come into play. He swerves in and out of traffic, trying to keep an eye on everything while maintaining speed, and then suddenly Pidge is yelling again.

“ _Lance, take a right!_ ”

He curses violently, noticing the street is only about twenty feet ahead. He doesn’t have time to downshift and slow, so he gets a little closer and then pops the handbrake, letting the rear end of the Lamborghini sweep out and turn the car nearly ninety degrees. He releases the handbrake again, and then shoots down the side road. He can’t go as fast here, even though there aren’t any cars, because of the poor quality of the pavement. It’s not just about ruining the suspension if he tried, the car literally won’t go faster without pretty much lifting off. “This was a shitty idea, Pidge!”

“ _Oh for fuck’s sake! Just trust me! Take a left onto Sun!_ ”

He’s going slower this time, so it’s a lot easier to turn, and this road is a little better. He can get up to sixty on it, at least. He hears Pidge direct Keith, then, but stays focused on the road. There are some cars parked on the street, and Lamborghinis are wide as fuck, but he manages, keeping the wheel completely straight as he tears down. He watches the tachometer and speedometer, the needles rising, lowering, rising again, and everything is moving so quickly by him. He focuses completely on keeping the car under his control.

“ _Alright, Lance, in five hundred feet take a right onto Simpson. Keith, take the next exit_.”

Neither of them respond, but Lance slows and does as he’s told, turning onto a more populated road. It’s wider, has two lanes which is nice, but it’s hard to pick up speed. “I thought you were taking us out of traffic!”

“ _I’m doing my best_ ,” Pidge huffs. “ _There’s less traffic there than the recommended route_.”

Lance makes a noise of frustration and shifts. “Allura, don’t hate me, alright?” This could be a very bad idea.

**“For…?”**

“ _Lance, come on, don’t do something stupid._ ”

“Too late!” He says, and he drives on to the median. The undercarriage scrapes noisily against the curb, and he flinches, but keeps going. “It’s faster on the fucking grass than the road at this point!” His tires spin out against the mud for half a second, and then he’s tearing off, avoiding the palm trees planted every few hundred feet. He’s sure he’s making a spectacle, but it’s worth it.

 **“ _Pidge_ ,”** Keith says, voice fizzling over the com. **“ _Um, the road is blocked off about half a mile ahead._ ” **

“ _Shit_ ,” Pidge curses. They pause for a second, and then, “ _Alright, take a right at Pruden_.”

But Lance isn’t listening to that – he’s tearing through the grass, bypassing traffic, and when he gets to an intersection he pulls off, wincing as the undercarriage bumps another curb, and speeds off. “Tell me when to turn, Pidge!”

_“I’m going to! Stay on Simpson for another half-mile. You’ll be taking a right onto Caribe. Keith, take a left onto Simpson as well. You two should meet up for a second.”_

Keith makes a noise of affirmation, but Lance just keeps on speeding down, swerving in and out of traffic and doing his best not to completely crash the car. Already, he’s sure he’s done tens of thousands of dollars in damage just from bumping shit and the undercarriage issue.

And then the Corvette is speeding up next to him. Lance glances over, but he still can’t see Keith inside the car because of the tint. For some reason this frustrates him a little. “Doing okay there, Mullet?”

Keith groans. **_“Come up with a better nickname.”_**

Lance narrowly avoids a Prius before Pidge is yelling in his ear, _“Lance, take that right!”_

As he pulls off onto the street, he grins. “How’s about…Mr. Fingerless Gloves?”

**_“Try again.”_ **

_“Keith, take a left onto Chartreuse!”_

“Alright, fine, ‘Handsomest Guy This Side of the Mississippi,’ and that’s final!”

**_“That’s a long nickname. Who’s the handsomest guy on the other side of the Mississippi?”_ **

“Ryan Reynolds.”

**_“Fair.”_ **

_“Alright, guys, you can discuss this shit later! Lance, take a left onto Elizardi! And then about three quarters of a mile down that, take another right onto Lee and you’re on the home stretch!”_ And then, _“See, Hunk! I told you! Residential would be fastest!”_

“Listen I just put you on the same level as _Deadpool_. And I get a ‘fair,’” Lance mocks. “You’re not gonna tell me, I don’t know, that I’m on the same level as, like, Antonio Banderas?”

**_“What?!”_ **

“He’s hot!”

**_“He’s like…almost sixty!”_ **

“Okay, so I haven’t seen him in a movie since Spy Kids and I love Puss in Boots – sue me!”

**_“He was still like forty when Spy Kids came out!”_ **

“How do you know so much about Antonio Banderas but you don’t know how attractive he was when he was younger?”

_“Are you two going to stop? This is kind of important! Keith, take a right onto Ames!”_

“Listen, Keith, I can’t win this race in good faith unless you tell me I’m as attractive as a popular actor. Or actress, whichever is fine.”

**_“You’re hotter than – fuck, I don’t know – Mila Kunis! And Orlando Bloom!”_ **

“Now _that’s_ the shit I like to hear!” He shifts, and then quickly turns onto Lee. His tires screech against the pavement, and he shifts up again as he hits the final street. If he squints, he thinks he can see the finish line about a mile ahead. It looks like a fucking parking lot?

_“Goddamn, if we could get back to this now, Mila and Ryan?! Lance, you’ve only got a few thousand more feet to go, and Keith, take one more right and you’re onto Lee as well!”_

But when someone is going as fast as Lance is, he’s already there by the time Keith actually turns onto the street. He pulls into the parking lot, undercarriage not liking the small incline to do so, and pulls the emergency brake to finish it off, stopping the car just before it hits anyone.

But it doesn’t really look like anyone is here, except for Sendak and, now, a deep, matte purple Audi. He’s leaned against it, smoking, looking at the blue Lamborghini with something akin to complete disinterest in his eyes. By the time he’s climbing out of the car, Keith is pulling in as well. Sendak looks over at him, then back at Lance, and then glances down at his phone.

“You two did that in the fastest time I’ve ever seen,” Sendak says, crossing his arms. “How?”

Lance blinks, realizing something. “But you got here ahead of us.” Somehow. The BMW M5 is a monster of a car, with tremendous horsepower and a beautiful V8, but he still doesn’t know how he could have beaten them. Also, the BMW isn’t even _here_.

“Unimportant,” Sendak says, waving his hand. He steps forward as Keith is getting out of his Corvette, looking threatening and menacing and all of that. Lance tries not to let it bother him. “Who are you? And how did you know about this race?”

“Unimportant,” Keith challenges. “I didn’t realize that was a stipulation. You didn’t seem to care at all before. Or did we stump you?”

Sendak glares at him, then crosses his arms. “Fine. You wanna play this game?” He hands Lance a paper slip. “That’s the location, date, and time. Show up, don’t be late.” He goes back to his car and picks up the briefcase that laid on the ground next to it before shoving that at Lance as well. “You’ll be on our radar, now, so don’t think you can play invisible for long. If you want to meet the boss, you’ll have to stop all this…” he sneers. “Undercover nonsense.”

They just watch silently as Sendak climbs into his Audi, and then drives off. “He thinks we’re cops,” Keith says, after a moment.

“What is this, Fast and Furious? Goddamn, man. Why’s he got to be so difficult?”

“I think anyone would be, considering.”

 _“What’s going on?”_ Buzzes in his ear. _“What happened?”_

**“Are you two alright?”**

“We’re fine,” Keith says, leaning against the hood of the Corvette and looking up at the sky. “Sendak is just – he doesn’t like that we’re keeping things from him.”

 **“He shouldn’t be surprised,”** Allura says. **“The Galra are shady to begin with. People with them rarely even use their real names.”**

“Well, like I said, he thinks we’re cops. Which is…really bad fuckin’ news.”

True. If there’s anyone people in this lifestyle hate more than each other, it’s law enforcement. Lance is almost surprised he didn’t gun them down and search their cars and bodies for taps.

 **“Alright,”** Allura sighs. **“Well, you’ve done it. Not that any of us had any doubts. Come on back to the house and we’ll celebrate.”**

“I still wanna know how he got here so goddamn fast,” Lance mutters as he goes to climb back in the Lambo. But Keith catches him first.

“I also wanted to add – Paul Walker.”

“Goddamnit, I’m not a cop! But, yes, I will definitely take that. Then you’re hotter than…Han.” Keith gives him a bland look. “I admit, I don’t remember his actor’s name, but he was really hot! And he was good at drifting! And I think he also hooked up with that hot former agent whose name I also can’t remember. And I’m basically a hot former agent, too. So it makes sense.”

“I honestly don’t even understand half of the things that come out of your mouth sometimes.”

 _“No one does,”_ Pidge offers. _“I swear, I’m never doing this again if all you two are going to do over the com is blatantly flirt.”_

“I told you, I definitely _don’t_ do that,” Lance laughs.

Keith shakes his head and goes to get back into his car. “By the way,” he says, just before he disappears into it. “His name is Sung Kang, and he _is_ extremely hot, you’re right. I’ll take that.”

“You’ll take what I give you, Billy Ray!”

But Keith is already in his Corvette, starting it and driving off. Lance laughs, a little breathlessly, and leans against the Lamborghini for a second before doing the same, the adrenaline still wearing off from the race.

Again, he does his best not to think about what was probably the softest, sweetest goddamn kiss of his life.

* * *

 

Allura's 2016 Convertible Porsche 911

**Color** : White

 **Mods** : None, really, but stock engine is turbocharged

 **Transmission** : 6-speed manual 

 **Performance Specs** : Hp @ 7200 RPMs - 570/ Torque @ 4250 RPMs - 450 lb-ft

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance doesn't know how to take anything serious, and for some reason Keith puts up with it. Who knows why. Must like him or something. 
> 
> Next time, Lance freaks out, and we get a little bit of Shiro's perspective.
> 
> You can find my tumblr @ http://alteanengines.tumblr.com/ send me an ask or message or something if you like


	8. Tell Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell Me - No Mana
> 
> “Fight through mist to see, I don't know what I'm wanting. We're too fucked to touch, your look is really haunting. All I know is I've been feeling kinda lonely. I need you so much, but you don't really know me.”

If he’s being totally honest, part of him has no idea of how to reintegrate into all of this. He’s been hanging on by the skin of his teeth, but he can’t sleep, can barely eat, and sometimes things pop up in the corner of his eye that aren’t really there. Not hallucinations so much as…flashbacks?

But he plays it off, because he has to. Because maybe if he fakes it long enough, it’ll become real. And besides, he’s got Keith to worry about. He knows he’s already worrying his younger brother enough, he doesn’t need to add anything else to his plate.

Living in close quarters with seven other people, though, is not only wearing its toll on him, it’s putting him in situations where he could, potentially, be found out. Where people can realize he’s not okay, that he’s – crazy. Because he is, that’s got to be it. Sane people don’t flinch at the smallest thing, don’t lay awake all night long because they’re afraid if they sleep, something bad will happen.

And the worst thing is, he barely remembers what happened. It’s like being terrified of a dream you can’t remember. But he does get those flashbacks, and slowly, it’s all coming back to him.

He can remember the day he was taken very clearly, perhaps more clearly than any other day in his life. It was a Sunday in November, and it was unusually cold. He had woken up early, and got up to turn up the heater before eating breakfast at their little dining room table; he read the news on his phone, then cleaned the apartment a little, and decided he was going to go to the nearest auto shop for a new steering wheel cover since his was getting frayed. He sent Keith a text letting him know he was leaving, rather than go wake him up unnecessarily, and then headed out.

His Trans Am, black and gleaming so pretty in the late fall sun, sat in the parking lot, totally unassuming except for its beautiful, dark body. He got in, got halfway to the auto shop, and then he was t-boned on a lone stretch of road where there was no one to see them forcibly drag him out of the car and shove him into their truck.

After that things get blurry. He can’t remember if they told him why they took him, or what they were going to do to him – he can only remember the head rush, the whiplash and searing pain in his probably broken left arm. He remembers wondering what was going to happen to Keith, if they were going to get to him, too. He remembers thinking he was supposed to be better, supposed to be stronger, wasn’t supposed to leave his younger brother alone again. He remembers the anger, remembers the sadness, and then he remembers Sam and Matt Holt, in the same truck as him, and then at the…compound, or wherever they were taken.

They’re fuzzy at best. Seeing Pidge immediately reminded him of Matt, and the image of the two came back to his mind so quick it was hard to hide the slight light-headedness he got. But even now, with Pidge talking about it with him, interrogating him almost (not that he can blame them, he’d be the same way if it was Keith that disappeared), he still cannot remember what happened to them for the life of him.

He was gone for two years, but of that, he can maybe remember a grand total of an hour put together. When Allura was on the com with Keith and Lance during their race, she had mentioned their mark – he can remember seeing that on every person he came across.

He isn’t sure of how they kept him so…psychologically sedated for so long – torture, maybe? He can’t remember. The things that pop up are useless, like gleaming brown eyes so vile they looked yellow, or a white popcorn ceiling with the sound of screams in the background. Still, those things keep him from sleep, keep him from being able to be alone, and he hates that. He’s a grown fucking man, nearly thirty, and he still can’t stand to be alone.

A consolation is that Pidge doesn’t sleep much, either, though he’s not sure of why. He thinks it’s not polite to ask. He still feels a little bad about calling them Katie, but he was just so excited to actually remember something concrete rather than a mess of colors and ideas. He doesn’t even know if they told him Pidge was agender, or if they knew. He just remembered the name Katie.

But thankfully Pidge has gotten to the point where they understand Shiro doesn’t remember any more than they’ve already been told. So now, when they stay up late, sometimes all night, they talk about other things. Shiro talks about things from Before, and so does Pidge.

And then there’s Allura, who’s been nothing but a gift. Honestly, if he’s scared, being next to her calms him. Almost better than being with Keith. Maybe because Keith makes him feel guilty, but being with Allura makes him feel strong, and important, and like he’s not a total fuck up. She listens carefully to what he has to say, and never pushes for information, and she looks at him in this way that makes his heart beat fast in a way it hasn’t in a very long time. She’s beyond beautiful, gorgeous really, and dangerously smart.

She is, in his eyes, quite literally perfect.

This, in turn, leads him into believing he honestly doesn’t deserve her in any way, let alone the way he’d really like to. But sometimes her hand brushes his arm, or she laughs at something he’s said, and he wonders if she thinks he’s worth it. If she thinks about him in that way at all.

He hopes she does, even though that makes him feel terrible in the case that she doesn’t. He really hopes she does.

* * *

 Hunk is not shocked to find out that Lance has no idea at all of what he’s doing with Keith. He’s obviously scared of how fast everything is going, although Hunk thinks it has less to do with the physical side of things. The two of them hooking up almost immediately was a surprise to literally no one. Coran even mentioned he thought the two of them were already together, which says a lot.

But Keith is different from Lance.

Lance, Hunk has learned over the years, craves exactly what a serious romantic relationship can provide, but he’s terrified of it because of what he saw between his parents. He doesn’t want that to happen to him, to someone else. He doesn’t want to be the cause of someone else’s unhappiness, although Hunk has told him many times that no one is supposed to go into something believing it’s going to end. Lance is a romantic cynic on the best of days, though. Flirting, sex? Those are things he is well equipped to deal with. The soft moment Keith gave him before the race? Not something he is well equipped to deal with, as evidenced by the fact that he’s pacing around his and Shay’s room currently. It’s been bothering him all morning, apparently.

“I mean, we _said_ it would be casual, you know? But I don’t think Keith really knows how to do casual? And I mean, I _do_ , but somehow I always end up doing things that – I don’t know, aren’t??” He groans and slumps in one of the chairs by the window. “I don’t want to…stop fooling around or whatever. I like being with Keith, I guess. But I also don’t want…whatever’s happening to keep going, because I have the feeling it’s just going to get worse.”

“Better, you mean,” Shay says, softly. Lance looks up at her, and she holds up her and his hands, where they’re interlocked. “It is not a bad thing, Lance, to be in love.”

He looks at her for a moment, and then sneers. Hunk wants to be mad at him for it, but he can’t bring himself to be. Lance is obviously upset about this. “I can’t do that,” he says.

“Of course you can,” Shay returns. “Everyone can. You just won’t give yourself the option.”

Lance looks a little angry, and Hunk bristles, but Shay picks up on that and runs her thumb against his skin to calm him. “Listen, I think Keith has been through enough. He doesn’t need me to go fucking with his emotions or whatever.”

“You have been through a lot as well,” Shay tells him. “I do not think a mutual relationship is ‘fucking around’ with anyone’s emotions. If anything, it will help Keith. And you.”

It’s startlingly obvious that Lance is going to be stubborn about this. Time to mitigate. “How about you give it more time?” Hunk asks. “Just give it another couple of days. If it makes you too uncomfortable, just tell him, and I know he’ll back off. Think about it. If you’re still against it, then no one will bring it up again, and you two can be as casual as you want to be.”

Lance looks over at him now, expression a little more open, a little more scared. “Hunk, I don’t know…”

“I know you don’t,” Hunk returns, frowning a little. “But maybe give yourself the opportunity to try. Spend time with him not being so adamant about labels and casual versus not casual.”

“But what happens if I…” he looks terrified, and he curls into a ball in the chair. Well, as best he can. “Keith is _amazing_ , Hunk, and I’m realizing this stuff all at once. And part of me is mad that I was so obtuse for so long, not even giving us the chance to be friends, but the other part is happy that I stuck it out so long. Because then… _this_ might have been happening sooner.”

Okay, so maybe it’s even a tad worse than Hunk expected. Lance is obviously feeling something, and that scares him. He’s not just scared at how intimate they’re being, he’s scared at how that’s making him feel _right now_ – not later on. So, at the base of it, Hunk is coming to realize that Lance isn’t just scared of being in a relationship, he’s scared of being in love so soon, or at all really. It’s way too soon for that, Hunk knows – for real love, at least – but the concept is scaring him. Like, what if he falls in love regardless of them being in a real relationship.

He doesn’t know what to say.

It’s a serious thing, romantic attraction. Or, it can be, at least. And everything going on is already stressful enough – Hunk has Shay already, so she’s a strong pillar for him. But Keith is an unknown for Lance, adding on to whatever fears and insecurities he already has about the situation. If he could get over his little wall, maybe Keith could become a pillar for Lance, too, but that’s going to take a lot of work on both of their parts. Keith is going to have to bang on the door, and Lance is going to have to finally let him in.

Lance doesn’t want to be alone forever. Hunk knows he doesn’t.

He sucks in a small breath, his grip on Shay’s hand tightening. “Lance, you two…you could really be great for each other. Don’t let fear stop you from that. You’re scared of, what, heartbreak? But you have to consider that it won’t happen. You are not your father, Lance. Not by a long shot. You’re a good person, and you’re caring. You wouldn’t purposefully hurt Keith.”

“No,” he mumbles. “I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” Hunk nods. “Go find him and spend some time with him. You’ve probably been avoiding him all morning.”

Lance looks out of the window for a moment, quiet. Maybe remembering his home.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Alright.”

* * *

 If Keith is being totally honest, he’s a little nervous; he likes Lance a little more than he thought he would when they first hooked up. When the guy isn’t being an asshole to him, he’s actually kind of funny, and sweet. He’s a good guy. It’s obvious that he’s a little timid about what’s happening between them as well, from the way he directs the situation when things stray into intimate territory, but Keith also thinks Lance probably likes him a little more than he thought as well.

He’s sitting in the sand on the beach behind Allura’s house when Lance finds him. The tide rolls up to his ankles, and then rolls back down, and the sun is bright in the sky. It’s a little hot, but the breeze off of the ocean softens it.

“Hey,” Lance says softly, sitting next to him.

“Hey,” Keith returns.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

The exchange is beyond awkward, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. Normally he and Lance have such easy conversation, talking about anything and everything, but now it seems that neither of them really know what to say. He thinks maybe the same thing is on their minds.

“I’m sorry,” he says then.

Lance looks over at him, confused. “Why? For what?”

“The other night,” he explains, pursing his lips. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, in front of everyone.”

“It’s fine,” Lance shrugs. “They already knew. I’m not worried about it.”

“I guess, but…”

“We’re not being very casual, are we?”

“No,” Keith shakes his head, drawing indistinguishable shapes in the sand. He finds a shell and picks it up, twirling it around his fingers. “We’re not.”

“What…do you want to do about that?”

“I don’t know…”

“Me neither.”

But I like it, he wants to say. I don’t want to stop, he wants to tell him. But he doesn’t know how to, not without sounding weird. “Are you scared?”

Lance is quiet for a long moment. “Yes.”

Part of him is a little shocked at the admission, but another is not. Lance can be honest when he needs to be. “Me, too.” A pause. “But…I like…being with you, I guess.”

They don’t look at each other, eyes trained on other things. Keith is afraid if that they did, they might have to acknowledge everything. “I do, too,” Lance tells him. “Too much, probably.”

Keith’s chest hurts a little, and his fingers tremble around the seashell. “Yeah…”

“But I don’t…I mean, I’m not ready for…”

“I get it,” he says, and he really does. “I’m not either.”

“Maybe let’s just…take it a day at a time?”

“Yeah…yeah, that sounds good.”

It must be at least five or six minutes before Lance speaks up again. He doesn’t know for certain, because he tends to lose track of time when Lance is next to him – when his entire mind is filled with dark skin and soft hands and vibrant eyes.

Lance leans across him, then, and finally they’re looking at each other. Lance has such blue eyes, blue like the ocean and just as deep, and for a moment they just watch, maybe searching for something – some permission of some sorts. Not just to kiss, but for more than that. Things that they can’t ask out loud, things they can’t even admit to themselves. But in Lance’s eyes, he sees hope more than fear, and good more than bad. He hopes Lance sees the same in his.

* * *

 Kissing Keith is painful. Not because of the teeth this time, there’s none of that, but because of the tightening of his chest, the light-headedness, the anxiety in his gut. Their lips move together softly, carefully, as if testing things out, just the barest hint of tongue against his top lip. One of his hands is braced on the sand, while the other is buried in Keith’s hair, holding him, and Keith’s in a similar position, but his free hand rests on the spot where Lance’s neck meets his shoulder. His thumb caresses Lance’s pulse point, and his breath skips every now and again when he feels like it’s too much. But he can’t stop. Because even if kissing Keith is painful, it feels a little like everything he’s ever wanted.

Keith leans over him, pressing him back into the sand, and he goes willingly, eyes slipping open again for a moment. Beneath him, the ground is hot, the sand spilling through his fingers as he trips to find some grip on it. “Lance,” Keith says, whispers really, and then he kisses the side of his mouth again, his cheek, the shell of his ear. He moves down, kissing his neck, tickling the skin with his tongue. Then he moves back up, kisses him once more, and leans away, laying his head on Lance’s shoulder.

Well, that was…something. Certainly, one of the most emotionally intensive kisses he’s ever had. He enjoyed it? He thinks? It’s hard to tell with his heart hammering in his chest. He knows Keith can feel it, because the other man places his hand on Lance’s chest, tracing patterns into his shirt. He can probably even hear it, too, somehow. Lance can definitely feel it, his pulse violent in his ears, his throat. But with time it soothes. Just laying here with Keith is easy, his scent mixed with the sea breeze is something that Lance wasn’t even aware he could adore. But it just leaves him thinking that being with Keith feels a lot like being at home, and that before the beach was the closest he could get, but not anymore.

He doesn’t know how long they lay there, long enough that they fall asleep, all the way until the tide reaches up past their knees. By then it’s past lunch, but he doesn’t feel very hungry yet, so he just runs his fingers through Keith’s hair and takes everything in.

Hunk essentially told him to give it a try, so he is. He’s scared, of course, he doesn’t think that’s going to go away, but it’s…not bad. He thinks maybe if he could calm the fuck down it would be better. This, for instance, is quite nice. He can work with this. Baby steps. Just, baby steps.

Keith turns against him even more, tangling their legs together and pressing another kiss to his throat. A chaste one, this time. “We should go eat something.”

Lance does his best to nod. It’s hard in his position. “We can go raid the kitchen if you want.”

“I want pizza.”

“For someone who works out so much, you sure do like unhealthy food.”

“They balance each other out.”

“Pretty sure that’s not really how it works.”

“Well, I want California Pizza Kitchen,” he repeats, sounding a little grumpier. Lance laughs and pulls out his phone.

“The closest one is like…thirty miles away, Keith.” He pauses. “There’s a D’Amores that’s only three and a half miles away, how about that one?”

“It’s not California Pizza Kitchen.”

“It is not,” Lance agrees.

“Fine,” Keith sighs, finally, getting up and stretching. “I’ll race you there!” Then he bolts off, back towards the house. How does he always have that kind of energy right after getting up?

“Hey! I’m supposed to be the needlessly competitive one, Keith!”

* * *

 So the race is in next Wednesday – an entire week away. What are they supposed to do in the meantime?

“Well,” Allura starts, when Lance voices this annoyance. “I do have to fly to New York to meet with some people for the business. If you like, you’re welcome to come with me. Shiro already is.”

Oh, maybe he shouldn’t intrude on that? But neither of them really look put out by the idea. So then, yes, totally. “I’ve never been to New York,” he says with a grin. “When are you leaving?”

She smiles. “Tomorrow. If you’d like to invite Keith, you’re welcome to.”

He looks away immediately, unable to maintain eye contact with her when she has that knowing look on her face. “Alright,” he says after a moment. “I’ll ask if he wants to come.”

“Great!” She claps her hands together and turns to Shiro. “I need to go finalize everything with my pilot, I’ll see you later.”

He smiles softly at her, and she places her hand on his arm for a moment before walking away. He watches her go, and Lance really doesn’t want to intrude, because he knows how annoying that is when people do it to him and Keith, but… “Are you two together, then?”

He turns back to Lance, and there’s an actual, genuine blush on his face. Lance is a little shocked to see it there. “No…”

“Have you tried asking her out?”

“ _No_ ,” he says, firmer, apparently even more embarrassed.

“Why not?” He asks. “She’s into you.”

Shiro fidgets a little – it’s a little weird to Lance, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s his age. But he supposes you never grow out of that kind of embarrassment. “It’s more complicated than that, Lance.”

He hums. “I get it. Things being complicated, that is.”

“I know,” Shiro returns, and there’s a small smile on his face now. “And I know it embarrasses you, too, but I am happy for you and my brother – whatever’s going on. He’s happier.”

It’s Lance’s turn to flush a little. It’s a good thing, he guesses, that Keith is happier lately. He thinks maybe being so alone had really altered his personality, made him a little more closed off; he does seem a lot more open, lately, and he laughs more than Lance has ever seen him. But he remembers what he told him, that everything feels like a miracle right now – he just doesn’t want to disappoint him. “Thanks…”

“Of course. I really think you two could make it.”

His face warms even further. He’s…never really heard that in regards to him with anyone else. Everyone always expects the worst – or maybe that’s always been him, putting words in other people’s mouths. Regardless, it’s a little reassuring to actually hear with how confused he’s been. And maybe this trip will do some good for them, too.

He goes to find Keith afterwards, ending up in one of the exercise rooms again. He’s running on a treadmill this time, a little pink from laying out in the sun earlier. “Working off the pizza?” Lance asks with a smile, leaning against the doorframe – without falling this time.

Keith huffs a smile at him, and then turns the machine off. He was apparently wearing earbuds, because he takes them out and steps off. “I had my headphones in,” he says. “What’d you say?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance laughs. He takes a few steps forward and pushes Keith’s damp bangs away from his face. “Have I ever mentioned how good that dumb mullet looks in a ponytail?”

Keith swats his hand away, smirking. “Shut up.” He tugs the ponytail a little tighter and picks up a towel off the side of the treadmill, wiping down his forehead and the back of his neck. “I’m gross, let me go take a shower.”

“Oh, I’m gross, too. Totally covered in filth. Looks like I need a shower, too.”

“Well, lucky for you there’s ten bathrooms in the house,” Keith jokes.

“Yeah, but I only like one of them.”

“Which one is that?”

“Whichever one you’re about to use.”

Keith laughs and pushes him lightly. “You’re so cheesy. Yes, I guess you can come, but only if you promise to wash my hair.”

“Scout’s honor,” Lance grins, saluting him.

Shaking his head, smiling brightly, Keith grabs him by the shirt and yanks him out of the exercise room. Lance’ll ask him about New York later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time Lance boards a plane. He continues to be wishy-washy.
> 
> my tumblr is alteanengines, for anyone who wasn't around for the edit from last chapter
> 
> Also I made a mix for this? If anyone wants a link just let me know


	9. Six Shooter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a little early to celebrate the fact that for the first time I ever I have actually written an outline for a fic. I'm amazed at myself. Anyone wanna try and guess how many chapters it's going to be? I'm thinking the first person who gets it gets a one-shot about whatever they want when this is finished - it can be about literally anything, or anyone. I have no boundaries.

“There’s rallycross in New Jersey,” Keith says, after they’re all clean and lying in bed, which is the greatest feeling in the world. “So if we go to New York, we have to try that.”

“Rallycross?” Lance asks, leaning up a little. “I’ve never done anything like that. A little too legitimate, you know?’

Keith laughs. “I think you can handle some legal racing for once.”

“Ya know, if we asked, I bet Allura could make us a rally track. And buy us rally cars, too.”

“I think you’re getting spoiled by her.”

“Probably. But I deserve it, because I’m royalty. A Kween. K-W-E-E-N.”

“That’s like, ultimate royalty.”

“I know.”

“What does that make me?”

Lance hums with thought. “My consort.”

“Wow, thank you for that honor.”

“You’re very welcome, wench.” Keith bites him on the shoulder, hard, and he yelps. “Alright, alright. You are…Aphrodite. Goddess of beauty and _pleasure_.”

“Much better. You do know who her lover was, right?”

“I’m gonna go ahead and say Zeus – he fucked pretty much everyone.”

“No,” Keith laughs, playing with Lance’s fingers. “She was Zeus’s daughter. Well, not that that means much when it comes to mythology, but no. Her lover was actually Hephaestus.”

“Let me guess, god of skincare and dope driving.”

“Not quite. Zeus married her to Hephaestus because he was hideous.”

“I am offended,” Lance starts, huffing, but Keith is laughing over him.

“But if it makes you feel better, like nearly every other deity in Greek and Roman mythology, she had many lovers. Dionysus, for one.”

“I know him. God of _partying_. I’ll take that.”  

“Figures.”

“How do you know so much about her, anyway?”

Keith is quiet for a moment, still tracing down the tendons of his hands, thumb pressing against the inside of his wrist. It’s very intimate actions, but Lance is sleepy, and it’s nice to lie and talk like this. “It’s not just her – mythology is interesting to me in general. Aphrodite is a more popular goddess, so she’s linked with all of the other popular figures.”

“What’s your favorite myth?”

Keith kisses his fingers and Lance’s breath hitches. He pulls away gently, and Keith allows it. Doesn’t say a word or make a face. “Persephone and Hades,” he says after a moment.

“Hades? God of the underworld, Hades?”

Keith nods, and Lance feels his hair tickle his shoulder. “Persephone was his bride. She was the daughter of Demeter and Zeus, and Hades was in love with her. Different telling’s say different things, obviously. She was abducted in all of them, but some say she fell in love and some don’t.”

“What do you think?”

“What do you mean? It’s not real.”

“Okay, but what do you think? Do you think she loved him?”

“…Well…” He starts, considering. “To explain further: her mother kept making a fuss to Zeus about it, and he finally demanded Hades bring her back to the mortal world, but Hades loved her, and wanted her to return, so he tricked her into eating a pomegranate seed so that she would have to return to the underworld for a portion of every year...”

“That…doesn’t answer my question.”

Keith is quiet for a few seconds. “I was getting to it. I think she loved him, yeah. Nothing in mythology is ever pretty, so the whole situation is unhealthy, but I think she would have returned even if he hadn’t tricked her. She never even took any other lovers, and like I said - that’s practically unheard of. Everyone was sleeping with everyone back then. But I might just be a little…idealistic, too. She could have very well stayed faithful simply due to duty.”

“You don’t think that, though.”

“I don’t, no. She was the daughter of Demeter, and she was a free-spirit. I don’t think Persephone ever really did anything she didn’t want to do, unless she was forced. I think Hades would have allowed her lovers, anyway, since he loved her so much.”

“That doesn’t make sense…”

“No, but it does. It was a totally different culture, then. Polyamory didn’t have the same stigma it does today. And besides, I think there are a lot of people who give up things for the people they love. I guess you would have to equate it to…Hades offering an open relationship so that they could remain happy together? But it didn’t matter, because she never strayed, and made sure he didn’t, either.”

“I always forget how much drama all these gods and goddesses started.”

“It makes reality tv look like a joke, honestly.” Keith shuffles a little bit, probably getting comfortable. “What about you? Favorite myth?”

“I don’t really know any,” Lance admits. “I mean, it’s interesting, but I’ve never gone out of my way for it.”

“You have to know at least one.”

“Okay, I do, but…don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Achilles and Patroclus.”

Keith does laugh. Loudly. He sits upright in bed, sheets pooling around his hips, and he pushes Lance lightly. “You’re so gay.”

“What? It’s a beautiful tale of friendship.”

“Uh huh. Not even the historians could ignore that much homoeroticism.” He keeps laughing for a few moments and then leans back against the headboard. Lance follows suit, straightening himself and leaning back before resting his head against Keith’s. “So what do _you_ think?”

“It’s not real,” Lance counters with a smirk.

“Okay, but actually it _was_ ,” Keith laughs. “I mean, more real than Persephone and Hades. Achilles and Patroclus were a vital part of the Trojan War.” He shakes his head, and then repeats, “So, what do you think?”

“Oh, I think they were gay as hell for each other. It’s actually kind of inspiring.”

“Mmm,” Keith nods. “Achilles, the revered warrior, good at everything, perfection in Patroclus’s eyes, and Patroclus, who everyone wrote off as useless and weak, perfection in Achilles’s. It’s beautiful. I love their story, too, even if they weren’t lovers.”

Lance thinks it’s a little like his and Keith’s, in a way. Okay, not really with all the particulars, but the dynamic really hits him. It makes him feel a little sentimental, almost. He isn’t sure of whether he likes it or not.

“There’s also that dope story where Zeus turned into an eagle and seduced – uh…fuck…”

“Ganymede? You have a type.”

“What? You mean you don’t think all the best ones were the ones with gays in them?”

Keith laughs again. Lance really wants to just make him do that forever. Ugh, sentimentalism. “There were more than enough to choose from,” he agrees. “But I honestly just like the ones where – I don’t know, where they felt real, at least.”

“You’re a romantic, aren’t you?”

“A little,” Keith shrugs. “I like my stories to have meaning.”

Keith being a romantic isn’t a huge shock to him, seeing the way he acts. ‘ _I can do casual_ ,’ he had said, but their definitions must be totally different. Still, Lance is more than aware that he perpetuates it.

Okay, more than perpetuates it, sometimes.

Regardless, lying around in bed in the late afternoon, talking about this kind of thing, he likes it. He really does. He likes it almost as much as he likes racing Keith, almost as much as he likes sex with him. It’s weird to him, a little, and it definitely makes him some degree of uncomfortable, but he doesn’t know what the fuck he wants. That’s why he’s doing this, he guesses. They’re taking it one day at a time, in baby steps, and eventually he’s going to figure out what he wants and he’s going to tell Keith and he’s going to hope Keith agrees.

“Okay, Mr. Romantic, I’m gonna take a nap. You gonna lay with me or get up?”

Keith looks at him. “I was planning on getting up.”

“Okay, close my shutters for me, then – it’s too bright outside.”

The other man slides out from under the covers, naked except for boxers, and gently closes all of the windows, shutting out the light and covering the room in almost complete darkness as Lance relaxes and gets comfortable again. He expects to hear shuffling around while Keith gets dressed and goes on with the rest of his day, but then the bed dips, and Keith is lifting the blankets to scoot in next to him.

“I thought you were getting up?”

“You’re persuasive.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Lance chuckles, enjoying the warmth against his back. Keith is pressed up right against him, an arm slung over his waist. The contact is nice. “Two naps in one day,” he says, voice starting to slow. “At least this one won’t turn you into a lobster.”

“What?” Keith shoots up. “Do I look red?”

“You did fall asleep in the sun earlier, yeah, and you’re pale as fuck. You’re burnt, man. But come on, let’s sleep. I’ll put aloe vera on you later. I like the heat you’re putting off right now.”

Keith grumbles something, but relaxes again, and his arm tightens a little around Lance. He yawns, and then Keith follows, and his body sinks into the comfortable mattress a little more. “I better not get lazy because of you,” is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.

* * *

 “Lance,” Allura starts. “It’s…only going to be a weekend trip.”

“You never know what you might need,” he returns, head held high.

“It’s every time,” Hunk tells her. “Every. Time. We took a day trip once and he brought a suitcase.”

Okay, admittedly this is a lot. Mostly his skincare, but also a lot of clothes – but he isn’t sure of everything they’re going to be doing. If rallycross is on the menu, that’s one thing, but they might…he doesn’t know, go to a musical on Broadway or something. He has to have a spectrum of clothing choices, just in case.

“It’s always good to be prepared,” Lance nods, lugging his two suitcases to the front door.

“Yes,” Allura agrees, slowly, almost as if to humor him. “I suppose it is.”

Then Keith shows up, nothing but a duffle-bag on his shoulder, and Shiro follows. Shiro looks well put-together, more than usual almost, and Lance wonders why, but he doesn’t he comment on it; the man has a small, rolling bag he’s pulling along. “See, Lance, that’s what’s supposed to happen on weekend trips,” Hunk says. “You don’t need sixty pounds in suitcases.”

Lance sticks his nose in the air and crosses his arms. “Yeah, well when everyone else is pissed because they forgot something at home, I’ll be ready.”

Shiro laughs softly and pats him on the shoulder as he passes. “I’m sure. Come on, let’s get going.”

The plane is a bit larger than he would have assumed – for a private jet, anyway. It’s just the four of them, Coran staying with the others to hold down the house, and as Lance loads himself and his luggage onto the plane, he notices that, yet again, Allura has shown them the true meaning of luxury.

Like the rest of the things she owns, the interior is modern and white. Cream walls, actually, but the furniture is white. And he does mean furniture. Couches, chairs, what looks like a meeting room table, even a goddamned bar. He can’t even make any witty comments about it because he’s too busy trying to take everything in.

“This way,” Allura says, cheery, leading them through the ‘living room’ and towards the back, past the bar. “You can set your things down there.” She gestures to a small open area, with nothing but a white couch lining the wall. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“It’s an airplane,” Lance murmurs. “They shouldn’t require tours.”

Everyone ignores him. “The flight should only take about five hours or so,” she tells them, after, walking back towards the front area of the cabin. This thing is huge. He can’t express that enough. Maybe almost as big as a 747 – at least, it feels like it on the inside. “Anyone fancy a drink?” She asks, fitting herself behind the bar and bending down to grab something. She pops up again with a small bottle of cranberry juice. “I was going to make myself a martini.”

“And of course, she’s a masterful bartender as well,” he whispers to Keith, who elbows him in the side. He lets out a soft cough and tries not to look like it hurt.

“I’m actually quite mediocre,” she laughs. “I have bar tools that measure everything out for me.” She pulls out a bottle of triple sec, and then – of course – procures fresh limes for what Lance is presuming to be a Cosmopolitan. How…cliché.

“Yeah,” Lance nods. “I’ll take a…” he pauses. “What have you got anyway? What kind of whiskey? Jack or Crown or something?”

“Oh, well, I have Jameson 18?”

“That…is a normal bottle of whiskey.” He’s shocked, he was expecting something so expensive he had never heard of it. “Yeah, I’ll take a whiskey sour then. Please?”

She nods, turning around to grab the whiskey and a bottle of Grey Goose. Again, semi-normal vodka. At least she likes their pleb alcohol. Although, looking, he thinks he sees a bottle of Louis XIII on the top shelf. That’s about right. “And for you, Keith?” She asks, measuring out the vodka and adding it to the tumbler. “Anything you like.”

“Uh,” he starts, and then he looks at Lance for a moment. “Gin and tonic.”

She nods, but Lance – Lance is affronted. “ _What_?” He spits. “Gin? That’s bad and you should feel bad. Gin is fucking nasty.”

“I panicked. It’s the first thing I thought of. Gin isn’t that bad.”

“Just…just get him a whiskey and coke,” Lance sighs. He rests a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll introduce you to alcohol that actually tastes good.”

“I’ve had a whiskey and coke before, Lance,” Keith says, drily.

“Would you like anything, Shiro?” Allura asks then, completely ignoring them – as everyone in the household has seemed to learn to do when they start their back and forths.

“No…no, I really shouldn’t. Thank you, though.”

“Of course,” She nods. She shakes her Cosmo mixture, pulls out a martini glass, and then pours it out. Then she washes the tumbler out and starts on Lance’s whiskey sour, measuring out the Jameson, and then the sweet and sour mixture. After she pours it out, she puts a tiny stirring straw in it and hands it to him. She makes Keith’s, too, and then they retire to the couch. “It’s going to be a long ride,” she informs them. “But I have many things to keep us busy. I have Wi-Fi, and a television with a GameCube-”

“A GameCube?” Lance asks, sitting up. “Like, the old one?”

She nods. “Yes – I like to play Mario Party.”

“I love Mario Party,” he returns, bouncing in his seat. “We have to play!”  

“We can do that,” Allura laughs. “But let’s wait until we’ve reached cruising altitude. In the meantime, let’s discuss the schedule.” Keith leans back against the couch, their shoulders pressed together, and crosses his legs. “When we arrive in New York, we’ll be headed straight to the hotel – we’re staying at The Chatwal. Keith, Lance, you’ll be staying in one room, and Shiro and I will be staying in the other.” Lance raises an eyebrow, and Allura immediately turns a little pink in the cheeks. “With separate beds,” she clarifies, then clears her throat. “But you two have a single king, if that’s fine? I just assumed.”

“That’s fine,” Keith shrugs. He looks at Lance.

“What he said,” Lance agrees, cocking his head in Keith’s direction.

“Great! Alright, well, we can bring everything up to the rooms, and then meet for dinner at the restaurant for reservations at eight. There is a dress code as well, so dress nicely. Saturday, the day is completely free for you two, although Shiro and I have a lunch meeting, and then a five o’ clock. On Sunday, we’re all free, so I made us reservations for dinner and bought us tickets to go see a show. Besides that, we don’t have anything concrete planned.”

“Knew I would need all this,” Lance says, triumphantly.

“Except that we have everything we need in a much smaller space,” Keith fires back, amused.

“Well what if I need to change my clothes for some reason? Besides, you’re just jealous because I’m smarter and more organized.”

“Yes, you’ve figured me out.”

“Knew it.”

The plane starts then, and the pilot comes over the intercom. “ _Alright, Miss Allura, we’re starting off now. Make sure everyone stays buckled while we ascend, and I’ll let you know when we’ve reached cruising altitude.”_

 She reaches behind her and presses a button on the wall. “Thank you, Daniel.”  She rights herself. “There are seatbelts for everyone as well, so please do fasten them. Daniel will let you know when we can move around the cabin.”

Keith relaxes further, resting his head against the back of the couch after he’s buckled, and Lance mimics him, staring up the roof. It’s not as extravagant as the rest of the cabin, but there are some beautiful light fixtures for him to look at, their patterns and the way they refract light just entertaining enough for him to not want to look away immediately.

His favorite part has always been the take-off, pulling off of the ground. The g-force pushes him back a little, and Keith grunts, obviously less pleased. He grips Lance’s forearm hard as they ascend, and immediately Lance realizes he’s never flown before. He’s nervous.

“It’s okay,” Lance tells him, voice a little low. “Planes are safer than almost any other way to travel.”

“I know,” Keith grumbles. “It’s just uncomfortable.”

“It’ll be alright. Once we’re all the way up, you won’t even know we’re in the air.

* * *

“Fuck planes,” Keith says as they hit the ground, grip on Lance’s arm tighter than when they started. At this rate he’s gonna get a fucking bruise.

“Calm down, man, it’ll be okay. We’ve landed. It’s over.”

Slowly, Keith lets him go. Lance shakes his arm a little as if to shake away the irritation, and Keith mumbles an apology. Lance waves him off, and then they unbuckle and stand; he stretches his arms above his head, groaning, and purposefully leans heavily against Keith, who loses his balance and falls back on the couch. “Lance,” he growls. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, g-force took over.”

“We’re on the ground.”

“I was overwhelmed by my own reflection.”

“In what?”

“My mind.”

“Of course,” Keith huffs. “Get off, Lance.”

“Lance, please, remove yourself from Keith. We’re disembarking.”

He pulls himself off after a moment and straightens – Keith is less than amused, but Shiro seems like he’s trying to hide a grin. It’s nice to see he’s not blinded to comedy by brotherly love. After debarkation, a black Bentley SUV comes to pick them up, and they’re off to the hotel. Keith doesn’t forgive him until Lance throws an arm around his shoulders and shakes him a little, whispering silly jokes in his ear. The small smile that graces his lips is starting to grow somewhat familiar, but he still loves to see it.

* * *

 Their suite is intense; it even has a living room. Keith walks right through it, seemingly uninterested compared to Lance. He has to pause every few seconds to take everything in, from the heavy blackout curtains to the huge tv mounted on the wall in front of the couch, and he doesn’t understand why Keith wasn’t as awed until he rounds the corner into the bedroom.

He’s already flopped on the bed. “I hate flying,” Keith groans, for the thirtieth time. “I didn’t know I would hate flying so much.”

Lance drags his bags in and sets them down next to Keith’s before jumping onto the bed, causing Keith to bounce and groan again. “Well, it would be a ten year drive, so unfortunately that’s our only option.”

“I don’t mind being in my thirties when I finally return to California.”

“Of course you don’t,” Lance laughs, patting him on the shoulder. Keith looks up at him, eyes narrowed. “Listen, buddy, more people die in car crashes every day than like a year’s worth of flying. And you drive like a maniac.”

“I’m not worried about _dying_ ,” Keith tells him, rolling over, arms spread out on the bedsheets. “Driving is exhilarating, flying is exhausting and boring and takes hours.”

“Allura has a fucking GameCube in her jet. We played Mario Party.”

“And I hated it.”

“You loved it. You fucking won.”

“Okay, well that was _one_ game. That took up like forty minutes, tops. There were another like four and a half hours on that plane. You can hyper-focus on stuff, even if you get bored easily; I can’t. I need movement and…things happening.”

“Lucky for you, I have an amazing idea, then.”

“Oh god,” Keith laughs. “What?”

“I think it’s time we earn our way into the Mile High club.”

He laughs harder and rolls onto his side, fingertips dragging against Lance’s thigh. “Yeah? What makes you think I want to?”

“It’s movement and things happening. Good things. Orgasms, actually, which are the best things.”

“You have amazing priorities,” Keith tells him, and heaves himself up before playfully shoving Lance back on the mattress. It’s so comfortable – even more comfortable than the beds back at Allura’s. It feels amazing. He can’t wait to get a chance to sleep under the sheets.

Keith kisses him the way he nearly always does, with passion and teeth and a tinge of aggression. It’s like he’s moving quickly in case they never get the chance again, like this’ll be the last time, and he’s a little moved suddenly by the thought that Keith might think that. Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s neck, kissing right back, and he wants to convey that he likes this as much as Keith, but he doesn’t know how to do that and articulate the way he feels correctly. Mainly because he doesn’t even really know.

He feels a nip at his bottom lip, and then Keith is moving down, biting marks into his skin and then soothing them over with his tongue. “You like marking me, don’t you?”

Keith bends back a little, and Lance can’t really read his expression. He thinks the guy is amused, maybe? “It’s fun to see it later.”

“You’re lucky I don’t care,” Lance laughs. “Or else I’d punish you and tell you only under the clothes.”

“ _Scary_ ,” Keith jokes, and then dips down again, kissing him, licking into his mouth. Hands wander down his body, over his clothes, and his skin is starting to heat up. He knows it probably wouldn’t be best to have sex right now, though. In a situation like this, a room like this, it makes him really want to take his time. Ravish or be ravished, he thinks – either would be good. But either way, he definitely wants to take it slow for once. Keith will let him control the pace if he tells him he wants to.

He puts his hands on Keith’s hips and then flips them over, straddling his waist. “We told them we were just bringing our luggage up,” he says with a grin.

Keith wiggles a little. “We’re adults,” he returns. “We can do what we want.”

Lance watches him for a moment. “But…food…”

“I thought you said orgasms were the best thing ever.”

“Food orgasms can happen, too.”

Keith huffs out an amused laugh. “Alright. Later, then.”

“Definitely later,” Lance agrees, leaning down to kiss him again, a little slower this time. Keith matches his pace, their lips dragging, and then Lance moves off of him and straightens his clothes. The other man sits up, still pink from his slight sunburn, and Lance laughs as he slides out of bed, a little dazed. Lance reaches forward to brush fingers through his hair in a rudimentary imitation of a comb. “Your mullet gets so messy when you lay down,” he laughs.

Keith pouts a little, reaching up and ruffling Lance’s hair roughly. “I know it’s long.” Lance works on his own hair, then. “Is it…really that bad?”

“What? No, I fixed it for you.”

“I mean the style,” he deadpans.

Lance has to think about this. No, he doesn’t really think it’s that bad, it’s quite grown on him actually, but if he admits this, he can’t tease Keith anymore. On the other hand, if he lies and tells Keith that he thinks it’s dumb, it’ll probably actually hurt his feelings. “No,” he sighs, finally. “I kind of like it, actually. It suits you, in some weird, retro way.”

Keith grins, then flattens a stray piece of Lance’s bangs. “Okay. Now let’s get dressed and go downstairs.” He leans in for another kiss and Lance obliges before leaning away and moving towards his bag. He dresses quickly, to make up for the time they spent making out, and when Keith is done he grabs him by the wrist and leads him out of the room. They kiss again in the elevator.

* * *

 The restaurant is as nice as Allura implied, with plush red carpets and fine glasswork. The light fixtures hang low, beautifully, and the tables spaced around the room are covered in beautiful tablecloths. Overall, it gives off a very exquisite feel, and Lance feels very out of place. A little over a week ago he was in his little house in LA, doing street-races for cash, and now here he is. He looked up their suite – it’s thousands of dollars a night. It’s ridiculous. Still, he appreciates it, and he knows that, to Allura, this is not a heavy price to pay. This is all probably very normal for her.

The food is as delicious as the hotel is beautiful, and he and Keith tear through it quickly. Allura buys a bottle of expensive wine as well, and before he knows it, he’s a little wine-drunk, laughing along with the other three; even Shiro has a glass or two, and he seems more relaxed than usual. It’s nice to see him laughing; he deserves it.

By the time everything is done and paid for, it’s close to ten. Normally this would be quite early for Lance, and he would want to go out and see the city, but he is very motivated to get back up to his room. He doesn’t even hide it, grabbing Keith’s hand and laughing, wobbling a little, as they run back up to their suite.

As soon as the door closes, they’re kissing again, and anticipation settles low in Lance’s gut. He hasn’t taken his sweet-ass time in a while. He can’t wait to bring Keith all the way to the edge, and then back again – over and over and over again. They can sleep as late as they want tomorrow, and go to rallycross later in the day. For now, he wants to indulge himself in his…?

In Keith. Wants to indulge in him, to drown in him, to know nothing but him. He wants that mindlessness again, and he wants it with the man attached to him right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly an intermission chapter to set up for the sinning in the next chapter. Prepare for a roller-coaster.


	10. I Don't Wanna Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Someone should make a vaccination for this/ something to counter my infatuation. My thoughts get tangled when you're kissing my skin/ I throw my hand up, I'm about to give in. 'Cause when we get together, I'm feelin' like a dream/ but when I'm all alone, I see you're bad for me. Don't get any closer, I have no self-control, no.”

Keith is warm, and the air in the room is damn near stifling. He gasps, back arching as Lance touches him, hands roaming his body; his chest rises and falls unsteadily, hands shaking as they rest on Lance’s shoulder blades, but everything about him feels so soft right now. He is pliant under Lance’s touch, yielding and complacent. No teeth, no nails, and the way he’s reacting makes Lance wonder if that aggression is all he’s ever known when it comes to sex. Sometimes that approach is great, but going slow can be just as rewarding, he thinks, and seeing as Keith moans softly from nothing more than Lance’s lips pressing against his sternum, he’s starting to realize the same. He’s beyond sensitive, and burning up, and even though Lance can feel how hard he is, he doesn’t rush him on. Keith allows whatever Lance gives him, and doesn’t ask for more.

He already has the lube and condoms lying next to them on the bed, ready whenever they are, but they have all night. Lance is in no hurry, no matter how anticipatory he feels about it. He still owes Keith from when he asked last time.

He hears his name gasped when his thumbs press lightly against Keith’s nipples, then his nails softly rake down his side and dig under the waistband of Keith’s underwear. Slowly, almost too slowly for even him to take, he drags them down. He kisses everywhere he can reach, all the way down his body, down the inside of his thigh, then the side of his knee. Keith is watching him with red cheeks and glazed over violet eyes, and Lance thinks he looks gorgeous, honestly. Like the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He wants to tell him that, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he moves back up, tongue trailing kisses along his thigh, and Keith’s breath hitches terribly when Lance gets to his cock. He presses his lips to the head, and the musky scent makes him a little woozy; it’s nice, though. He holds Keith’s hips against the bed as he moves down, lapping against the underside, then up again, and he’s glad he does, because he feels how Keith’s back arches against the bed when he wraps his lips around him and moves down, down, down. He’s a hot, heavy weight in his mouth, and it’s arousing in the strangest way, but it definitely makes him harder. He keeps his hands on Keith, though, rubbing circles into his skin with his thumbs and pulling his back some before glancing up and catching Keith’s gaze. The violet of his eyes is totally gone, replaced by wide, black pupils, and his skin is starting to glisten already. Lance hums softly, and then Keith is breaking away, eyes closing and head leaning back as his fingers grip the sheets. “Fuck,” he breathes, hips twitching. “Damn, Lance…”

Lance takes this as a compliment and goes on, moving his head up and down, pushing himself almost too far before leaning back again and swirling his tongue around the head, then against the slit before licking down it again. He lets go of one side of Keith’s hip to stroke him while he licks down to his balls, and then he’s back to the head, and Keith is breathing so heavy it sounds a little like he’s hyperventilating. He looks up for a moment, but Keith is totally gone, head turned to the side and eyebrows drawn tight. His lips are pursed, so he’s only inhaling and exhaling through his nose. “Breathe,” Lance reminds him, and Keith relaxes visibly, parting his lips to take in air. He smiles a little before getting back to work, and Keith’s hands fly to his hair, gripping tight when Lance hollows out his cheeks and sucks hard in time with his hand.

“Fuck, Lance, you’ve gotta stop. I…can’t…”

He pulls away, nuzzles against him while still jerking him off. “What? Am I limited to one orgasm tonight or something?”

Keith chuckles breathlessly. “You’re awfully full of yourself.”

“You’re gonna be full of something.”

“It’s time for you to stop – ah! – being…all talk!”

Lance laughs, and then goes back to sucking him off again, alternating between fast and slow and hard and soft, tongue laving against him when he needs to back off for a moment. Keith doesn’t come until Lance releases the other side of his hips and moves his free hand down to trail to the sensitive skin below his balls. He presses, softly, then harder, and Keith moans – loudly. Very, very loudly. “Shit, Lance, I’m…coming!”

“Go for it, baby,” he returns, moving his hand up, twisting his wrist, pushing his thumb under the head and then against the slit, and then Keith is coming on a gasp, fingers tight in Lance’s short hair; when he’s finished he relaxes against the bed, fingers going slack.

“Come up here,” he murmurs, and Lance complies. “Kiss me.”

“Kinky,” Lance laughs, but he does as Keith tells him, slotting their mouths together and gasping when Keith bites his bottom lip hard. His hips twitch, and he’s beyond hard now. “Keith,” he whines. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Oh, now you play coy,” Lance groans, rolling his eyes as best he can despite the situation. “Please suck me off.” Keith smiles at him, and then pushes him over so that he lays flat against the bed. Then he crawls down his body, hand gliding against his torso, and when he reaches Lance’s dick, he blows against it lightly. His entire body shivers. “You’re such a tease,” he grumbles, but Keith just laughs and then bends down, grabbing the base with one hand and licking the tip lightly.

He sucks in a breath, and then hisses on the exhale as Keith goes down on him, working him up to a point where he feels like he’s going insane, and then he stops. Lance can’t even form words to appropriately express how he feels about this, but then Keith is kissing up his body and reaching for a condom. “I need you inside of me right fucking now,” he whispers, and Lance’s mind goes totally blank. He also needs this, he realizes. Keith presses the lube into his hands and then leans against Lance and guides his hand behind him. “Quick,” he murmurs against his skin, and Lance is totally down for that. He pours the lube on his fingers and presses a finger against him before slowly easing it in.

“You’re tense,” Lance whispers against his temple. This angle is a little awkward, but he likes the way Keith is pressed against him, their chests touching. “Relax a little.”

Keith does as he’s told, hips twitching as Lance drags his finger in and out carefully. Keith hums, then groans, “Another, come on.” Lance feels just as needy and desperate as Keith does, maybe even more, but he’s not hurting him. He slowly nudges a second finger in along with the first, letting him get used to it before continuing on, scissoring and rubbing along his insides. “Deeper.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna need you to move up, then. My arms are long, but they aren’t that long.” He moves up, far enough so that Lance can kiss his collarbone as he pushes his fingers in deeper, and Keith gasps, trembling against him. “Is that good?”

Keith nods fervently. “It’s good. More.”

Lance complies, stretching further before adding a third finger. He’s careful not to be too harsh on him or his prostate, careful not to overstimulate him before they even get to it, but he does crook his fingers just once, and relishes the whimper that Keith makes when he does so. His arms tighten around Lance’s neck, back arching, and then he’s putting a hand against Lance’s arm. “That’s enough,” he says. “It’s enough.”

Lance nods, and then Keith moves off of him to roll the condom on and falls back on the bed. “Traditionally, then?” Lance asks, breathy, moving over him and grabbing Keith’s legs. “It’s fine. I want to see your face anyway.”

Keith moans and Lance grabs a pillow before pushing it under his hips. “Hurry,” he groans, fingers grasping the bedsheets. “Please.”

He angles himself before slowly pushing himself in, closing his eyes tight at the sensation and gritting his teeth. It’s tight, not that he’s completely surprised, but it’s still somewhat overwhelming. Below him, Keith is totally locked up, legs wrapped tight against him and back completely straight. Lance rubs circles into his skin and coos at him. “Relax, _Cariño_ – breathe.” He does, exhaling heavily, and his body loses some of its tension. They both sigh out, a little more comfortable now, and Lance stays still for as long as he can manage before pulling back slowly, making Keith keen. His back arches somewhat, head tipping back again, and then Lance is pushing forward again. For a few moments there’s no real rhythm, just them getting used to each other, reveling in the sensations, and then things pick up. Keith grows more relaxed, more open, and Lance bends to kiss him as he moves, his hips undulating, and they match pace fairly quickly. Small, breathy moans mingle in the air between them, and when they can reach, they kiss, open-mouthed and filthy.

“Lance,” Keith groans out, pushing back against him. “More, come on,” and Lance quickly complies, leaning back a little and grinding against him, pushing deeper and harder, and Keith’s small breathy sound erupts into a loud gasp, hands scrambling for purchase against Lance’s skin now, scratching. It feels good, too good, so sweet. The pleasure pools at the base of his spine, makes him snap his hips forwards and back, chasing that feeling, and the sight of Keith underneath him is overwhelming. He feels dizzy with arousal and emotion, and the only thing he can manage to speak are praises of Keith in between kisses to anywhere he can reach.

When they lock eyes, Lance chokes up a little because of the sheer intensity of Keith’s gaze. His violet eyes are so dark, darker than he’s ever seen, and so gorgeous that his pace falters a little. When they flutter shut again, due to a particularly deep thrust, Lance leans forward to the best of his ability, bending Keith a little, so that he can kiss each of his eyelids, then his cheekbones while slowing his hips a little. He feels nails scratch against him, feels the exhaled puffs of gasps and moans against his skin as he kisses any part of Keith’s face he can reach, and when he finds a good angle he sticks with it. Keith tries to speed him up a little, but it doesn’t work, and the other man is melted like putty in his hands, crying out and totally pliant under him. This position was a good choice, he thinks. It’s basic, but he can kiss him better like this, can see all of him.

He reaches between them now, wrapping a hand around Keith’s dick, pumping in time with his almost tortuously slow movements, and a long, low whine comes out of Keith’s mouth. He swallows it with a kiss and twists his wrist just so. If possible, Keith’s grip on him turns even tighter, even harsher, as if Lance is some sort of lifeline. “Lance,” he whimpers. “Lance, please. I can’t.”

“Tell me what you want, _Cariño_ ,”

“Let me come, please,” he manages out, hands scrambling. “Please, move faster. I need more.”

He doesn’t answer with words, but with actions, finally pulling away enough to lift one of Keith’s legs over his shoulder and turn him on his side a little. He starts from a slow pace, but then moves faster, harder, pushing into Keith over and over again until there’s nothing left but pure physical sensation. Everything feels like fire, like water, like steam, and he can barely breathe through it all. At some point the only thing out of his mouth becomes Keith’s name, whispered over and over again like a prayer, like a mantra, like it’s the only thing that can give him air again, and then he comes, hard, blindingly. He bends forward a little with the force of it all and keeps moving through his orgasm until it’s too sensitive, and then a little more while jerking Keith off so he can finish too.

The sounds he makes, the expression on his face – Lance thinks it could make a man cry. Keith looks beyond beautiful, like he’s always been meant to feel like this, like he deserves all of the good things in the world, all of the beautiful things, and Lance is swept away by it all. It’s so much, too much, not enough at all. He wants this forever.

That terrifies him.

The moments after, after the condom is off and they’re relatively cleaned up, Keith lays in Lance’s arms, and it’s quiet except for their still-heaving breath. His hand dances down Keith’s spine lazily, dragging up and down, feelings the heat and slickness of his skin, and he feels – weird. It’s a new thing, the closeness he feels in this moment. It’s like a connection he’s found in a single second, a thing that terrifies him and fills him with so much awe that he’s floored. He bites his lip to keep him from speaking, from making any sort of noise. He doesn’t know what would come out, but he does kiss the crown of Keith’s hair; he hears the other man’s breath hitch, then feels him exhale shakily against his skin, and the air tickles him somewhat, almost cool compared to the warmth he feels.

“Lance,” Keith starts, but he doesn’t go on. It sounds like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“Do you need a shower or anything? We can go together if you want.” There. That’s safe. Aftercare.

He nods against him. “Yeah,” he starts. “Okay, but just…give me a moment.”

“Of course,” Lance agrees. He isn’t ready to move yet anyway. Keith slumps away, groggy, and Lance pointedly doesn’t look at him – it feels invasive, almost, even after everything. He doesn’t know why it feels so odd, but it does. He’s generally quite shameless when it comes to sex, but…he has the feeling Keith wouldn’t want him to look, so he keeps his eyes closed, breathing in the scent of everything around him; he’s surrounded by the smell of Keith, of sweat and sex, and it almost has him asleep, until he feels Keith press a hand against his shoulder. His eyes blink open, and he sits up, bleary.

“Did you want that shower?”

He nods, even though he’s tired, because he knows how gross he’ll feel in the morning if he doesn’t. When he climbs out of the bed, Keith’s hand finds his, and the contact is unbelievably nice; they walk together to the shower, swaying slightly, and Lance makes the water a little cooler than he normally would to soothe the heat somewhat. Keith doesn’t complain, just closes his eyes and tips his head back as the water runs down his body. Lance takes one of the washcloths that sits next to the shower, and wipes down his torso, and it must feel nice, because Keith keeps making small, happy noises as he does it. Afterwards, Lance takes some of the shampoo he brought and lathers it in his black hair, scratching softly and massaging it into his scalp. Keith rinses it, and then Lance puts the conditioner in to let it set for a minute or two, and Keith does the same to him, although his hair is much shorter and therefore needs a lot less care.

“Lance,” Keith starts again, just like earlier, as he rinses out the conditioner. Lance runs his fingers through the strands, pleased at how smooth it feels, and Keith leans against him a little. “What do you…want out of this, really?”

His heart stutters in his chest. He’s scared of the answer to that. “…I don’t know…” he says.

They’re both quiet for a long time, just standing under the spray of water. “I mean, like we said, I’m not…I mean, I don’t think we’re ready for…anything serious, but…I feel like I could be. At some point.”

Lance can read in between the lines, and he’s not – he’s not totally stupid. Keith lets him get away with too much, trusts him too much. He’s worried Keith’s just setting himself up for Lance to disappoint him, but he can’t say that. “I don’t…I’ve never… _done_ relationships. Ever.” He feels Keith tense up against him. “I don’t even know the first thing about them.” He pauses, and Keith doesn’t say anything. “But I guess I don’t – I don’t have any plans to be alone forever. For now I’m just…scared of-” The way he feels, the way he could break Keith’s heart. The way Keith could break his.

“Of what?”

“…Catching feelings...I don’t – I’m no _good_ at…at feelings.” He’s already feeling a lot of those feelings.

Keith is quiet for a long moment. “So what you’re saying is…you don’t want to be in a relationship with me because you don’t want to – what, fall in love?” Hesitantly, he nods. Keith leans away from him a little bit, and then turns off the water. “That’s a little ridiculous, Lance. Why are you afraid of that?”

Ridiculous? Irritation flares in his chest, but he pushes it down. “Listen, I saw what happened between my parents.” Keith opens the shower door and steps out, then reaches for a towel and starts drying his hair. “I don’t – I wouldn’t want that to happen to…”

“To us?” Keith asks, lowering the towel. His eyes are narrowed. He’s hurt, it looks like. “It wouldn’t if you weren’t so obtuse about this. I told you I was fine with casual and then – then you fucking…hold me when we sleep and you kiss me for no reason and…what am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to feel? Goddamnit, Lance, you’re _confusing_. It’s like you want a relationship while being able to delude yourself into believing it’s not there.”

The irritation is back, stronger now. “Listen, you’re no better Keith. You look at me like – like you-”

“What? Like I like you? I _do_ , Lance. I have for a while. But I was fine with waiting for you. I don’t want a relationship with you right now, but I do want one. And is that a problem? You make me feel like – it’s not worth trying. Just because you’re scared it might fall through.”

“It could! What’s the point of starting a relationship that’s going to fail?”

Keith groans and storms out of the bathroom. He tugs his clothes on quickly. “You don’t get it, Lance. How fucking old are you? We’re not teenagers anymore. I don’t have time to play games with you. If you want to just hook up with no strings attached, fine; if you want to be more, great. But don’t fuck around in some middle ground and expect me not to get confused. Yes, relationships end, but everyone knows that! The point of relationships aren’t to just twiddle our thumbs until it ends. It’s _companionship_. I’m a fuck up and even I know that.”

Lance is quiet for a long moment. He feels somewhat like Keith isn’t letting him get a word in edgewise, but he really doesn’t know what to say anyway. “I was giving us a chance,” he says finally, and Keith looks over at him. His expression is a little less guarded now, a little more open. “Hunk told me to…give this a couple of days. Like a trial run.”

“That’s so…” Keith starts, but then he shakes his head. “Let’s just go to sleep, Lance. Now that it’s been totally established that we’re not even remotely on the same page and that I’m some kind of _trial run_ , I need some goddamn sleep.” He climbs into the bed, then turns on his side, away from him. Lance is still dripping wet, which is a little awkward, so he dries off and then pulls out something to sleep in and climbs into them.

“You weren’t a trial run, Keith,” he says, voice low as he gets into the other side of the bed. “I don’t know what you fucking want me to say.” He’s mostly talking to the ceiling, but he knows Keith is listening. It feels cold under the blankets, without them touching. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Too late.”

And then everything is quiet, and Lance doesn’t know what else to say, so he keeps his mouth shut. It wasn’t that long ago that he felt totally connected to Keith, in every way imaginable, but now they’re even farther apart than they were before they started this, it feels like. He stares at the dark ceiling for what feels like hours. He doesn’t sleep.

* * *

After all of that, the weekend flies by in a blur. Rallycross is fun, he guesses, but he can’t get the conversation out of his head, and he’s exhausted. From the looks of it, Keith is the same – they’re shaken. It was too much to talk about all of that stuff, too early. But Lance was scared, and now he feels a little bit better. About all of that, at least; there’s another problem, now, though. Where do he and Keith go on from here? He doesn’t think Keith meant to say all of that, or at least, he wasn’t supposed to say it yet, while they’re stuck together on this trip and have no real way to put distance between them. Time apart is what they need, he thinks. It’s all been moving so fast because of their proximity, because they’re together every second of the day it feels like. They’ve barely done anything separate since they started living at Allura’s. It was suffocating him in a way he didn’t realize, slowly and then all at once. No matter what they think about each other, or how they feel, it was too much. The itch under Lance’s skin was negligible at first, a nagging worry that he thought he could deal with, but now it’s practically unbearable.

So Lance leaves New York on Sunday morning, earlier than the rest of them. He tells Keith, who just nods quietly, and then he mentions it to Allura and Shiro at lunch. He doesn’t tell them what happened, of course, but they infer to a degree, and Allura calls Daniel and lets him know that he’s going to be making an extra trip a day early.

On the flight back, he doesn’t do anything. He just sleeps, to avoid thinking about what’s happening.

He doesn’t realize that he didn’t mentioned he was coming home to anyone in Malibu until he’s getting there and a cab rolls up to the front gates. He climbs out, along with his suitcases, and then leans against the iron as the cab pulls away and calls Hunk.

“ _Hey man_ ,” Hunk says, cheery. “ _How’s the Big Apple?_ ” Lance doesn’t say anything, and Hunk’s first instinct is always to think the worst. Usually Lance thinks it’s silly, but now he feels it’s quite fitting. “ _What’s wrong?_ ”

“I’m back in California – in front of the house actually. Can you come let me in?”

_“Whoa, what? Why did you all decide to come back?”_

“Not them,” Lance sighs. “Just me.”

Hunk is quiet for a moment, and then he clears his throat. “ _Yeah, I’ll let you in. Hold on._ ” Lance doesn’t have to wait long. The gates start to open after just thirty seconds or so, and he starts forward, a little groggy from sleeping on the plane; the trip through the front courtyard feels like it takes ages, and he’s sluggish when he gets to the front door and knocks. Hunk is there in a moment, swinging the door open and watching Lance with careful eyes. “Hey, dude,” his friend starts, slowly. “What’s up?” Lance shrugs, and Hunk grabs one of his bags, then the other, not giving him the chance to protest – he wouldn’t anyway. Once they’re in the front living room Hunk sets his things down and then sits down on the couch and pats next to him. “Did something happen with Keith?”

Immediately, Lance bristles, defensive, but then he sighs and relaxes. Nodding, he says, “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Remember how you told me to give it time? Told me to give myself the opportunity?” Lance asks, and Hunk nods back. “It was too much, Hunk.”

His friend frowns deeply. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he starts, and he looks away because he can’t make eye contact with Hunk when he’s so worried about him. “We slept together. For like, real or whatever. It was nice. I loved it. We went to take a shower after and talked and – Keith…he likes me, Hunk. Like, he _really_ likes me. He really wants something to happen between us. He keeps trying to say he was fine with giving us time, but I don’t think he was, and…I didn’t want to hurt him any more than I already had.”

“So you thought the best course of action was to sleep with him, and then leave immediately after?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Lance grumbles, still not looking at Hunk. “But it’s not like that. We spent all day together yesterday and it was – I don’t know, I can’t concentrate when I’m around him. I need time…away from him. We need some time apart to think about all of this.”

“Do you want to break up with him then?”

Lance doesn’t like the way Hunk worded that, so he grimaces, but he answers truthfully. “He might,” he says, almost ruefully. “But I don’t think I do.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I need time apart. Like, genuine time. I’m going to talk to Allura about staying at my house for a few days until the race.”

“Lance, this…this is _going_ to hurt him. If you want to avoid that, you need to stay.”

“I can’t,” Lance says, shaking his head. “I just can’t. Hunk, I refuse to keep going on with him like this. When we slept together it was…fuck, I don’t know – romantic. Probably the most romantic sex I’ve had in my life. And I _felt_ things. During, after. I liked it, and I liked him, and I was so confused. I don’t think he deserves that. Do you? Do you think he deserves me to be on the fence about us the entire time we do this? It’s just – all happened so fast…”

“It…has been a little fast,” Hunk concedes. “It’s only been about a week since you started sleeping together.”

“Exactly! That’s ridiculous. Two people shouldn’t be together like this unless they actually live together. Like, cohabitate. For romantic reasons. It gets too confusing otherwise. All the – the chemicals or whatever,” he makes an ambiguous gesture in the air. “It confuses you.”

“I kind of see what you mean,” his friend says, and there’s a warm weight on his shoulder – Hunk’s hand. He looks over at him finally. “Don’t just disappear on him though, Lance. You need to tell him.”

“I know…” Lance nods, exhaling. “I know I do. I just don’t want to.”

“I think it’ll make you feel better, too,” Hunk says. “Just call him tonight and talk to him about it. It’ll be alright.”

* * *

He hates this room. At first it was beautiful, and it meant something, but now it’s just a reminder. Still, he feels like he can’t leave it. Not just because Allura paid for it, but because he can’t seem to drag himself out of bed. He’s just – tired, and exhausted, and there’s nothing he wants to do in this dumb city. He wants to go home, he wants to go work out, or run on the beach, or go to the pier in Santa Monica and watch the ocean. All of this just makes him feel like shit.

He’s angry, too. So angry. But also…not as angry as he wants to be. Mostly, he just wants them to make up, to stay friends, even if it’s just that. If Lance doesn’t want to be with him, that’s fine, but ground rules and friendship are really all that he’s asking for. Not all of this confusing middle-ground bullshit. He understands where Lance was coming from, but it’s irritating. He mentioned taking it a day at a time, but he didn’t mention there was a time-limit, didn’t mention that it was all just him gauging how far he could go before it was too much. Because in the meantime, Keith has been going along with all of it. He’s so fucking _used_ to being left behind, and this doesn’t hurt as much as losing his brother – not by a long shot – but it fucking sucks anyway. He’s not in love with Lance, but he likes him, wants to stay next to him, and it’s ridiculous, but he thinks he’s always kind of wanted that to some degree. Ever since they first met and he saw the way Lance laughed with his friends, how passionate he was about driving. Keith never understood just why Lance disliked him so much, not until that day on the beach, but really Lance never should have been jealous. There’s nothing to really be jealous of. He raced out of desperation; maybe if he was good enough, his brother would magically find a way back. Still, he loved it. But Lance just thought that he was some conceited driver, somehow.

So he’s laying in this bed, somewhat pleased and somewhat upset by the fact that the sheets had been changed and he can no longer smell their mixed scents. Even after they fought, it was a comfort. He thought that maybe they could sit down and talk about it and work through it, but then Lance ran away. He didn’t say why, just that he needed to leave, and Keith just shrugged and nodded and told him goodbye. Because that was all he could really manage.

But now it’s Sunday night, late, around midnight, and his phone is ringing in the bed next to him. He picks it up, blearily, and looks at the caller ID. His heartrate picks up, and then he answers. “What?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Lance returns. Normally, Keith thinks he would have made a joke about how rudely he answered the phone, but now he just sounds resigned. _“I…do you have a minute?”_

“It’s midnight, Lance,” he groans, sitting up and wiping his eyes.

_“Shit – shit, sorry, I forgot about the time difference.”_

Yeah, it’s only nine there. “What do you want?”

 _“I just…I wanted to talk to you. To, um, apologize.”_ He starts, and Keith leans against the headboard before closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. He waits for Lance to go on. _“And to let you know that…uh, I’m gonna be staying at my house until the race.”_

And there it is. God, his chest aches, and he’s so mad. But mostly he’s just upset. “Good. Great. Then go. No need to tell me. You never tell me anything anyway. Just wait until it’s too much for you and then run away. But why bother-”

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance intones, urgently. “ _I’m_ sorry _, okay? I didn’t know you would be that upset over it. We’ve barely been able to stand each other for a week. It was just moving too fast.”_

“No, Lance, you’ve only been able to stand _me_ for a week. I never disliked you. I was a little confused about why you hated me so much, but I never felt that way back. I wanted to be your friend – that’s all I’ve ever wanted. But you always get it into your head that I’m some…narcissistic fiend who only cares about himself. I’ve always watched you, Lance. I’ve always been a little disappointed that you never gave me the time of day. And then you did, and I was ecstatic, but it was just a game for you.”

“ _It wasn’t_ ,” Lance insists. “ _It wasn’t. It was_ supposed _to be, but it wasn’t. I just wanted a fling. I just wanted something fun, but…”_

“But what? You liked me and you had to run away with your tail between your legs?” Keith snarls.

“ _Yes_!” Lance fires back, loudly. _“Yes, Keith, okay? Yes! Or at least, I was really starting to. It’s like, it’s been five days since I woke up with you next to me and ever since then I’ve just – it’s been hard, okay? I’m sorry, but it’s been so goddamn confusing. And you have to understand that trying to get over something I’ve been cynical about since I was a fucking kid is a little difficult…”_ He trails off, and Keith feels a little bit better, maybe. That makes sense, at least. _“But I need time apart. We’ve been attached by the hip for a week now, and it’s making me go a little crazy. I don’t…I don’t want to…stop what we have, but-”_

“No, Lance. No, you don’t get to decide that for us. You don’t get to run away and expect me to patiently wait for you to come back.”

 _“I get that,”_ Lance returns, a little softly, a little sadly. _“I just…it’s not fair to you for me to just be running around having no idea of what to do, or where to go. It’s just a few days until the race, and then I’ll be down in San Diego, and when I come back we can talk about it again. Is that…is that okay? Would that be something you’re willing to do? It’s just four days.”_

This is a new side of Lance he’s seeing. Like his homesickness, in a way, something he’s buried down deep enough that he doesn’t show it to many people, and that makes Keith relax somewhat. Makes him consider what Lance is saying. “I’m mad at you.”

_“I know.”_

“I wanna hit you.”

_“I’ll let you, when we see each other again. A smack, right to the face.”_

Keith laughs a little, which shocks him, and apparently shocks Lance a little as well, judging by his stunned silence. “Fine,” he returns after a moment. “Alright. But if you come to the conclusion that we should keep doing what we were doing, and I agree, then you don’t get to run away again. I won’t forgive you if you do.”

 _“Okay,”_ Lance says. _“That’s fair. I’ll let you really beat me up if I do.”_

“It’s a deal,” Keith says, chuckling again.

_“…Um. I know this is…I don’t know, probably out of line, but…”_

He sighs. “What?”

_“It’s nice to talk with you again. For real, I mean. Yesterday we just…it was weird, being so distant while we were next to each other. When we’re friends again, let’s try rallycross again for real.”_

Honestly, hearing from Lance is kind of nice, which irritates him because he feels like that desperate ex to some degree, but it really is. He wants to tell Lance that they are still friends in some ways, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “I’m glad you called.” Because he is. “I’ll see you in four days, Lance.”

 _“See you then…”_ he returns. _“Sleep well. Enjoy that room for the both of us.”_

“I will…” he says softly. “Goodnight…”

_“…Night.”_

And then they hang up. For a while, Keith just stares at the ceiling, processing everything, and then he rolls over and falls asleep.

* * *

She tastes sweet, like the chocolate they had for dessert. Her hands, petite but strong, rest on his shoulders, and her soft noises make flowers bloom in his chest. He sits on the edge of the bed, her knees straddling his hips, and he feels like he’s going to topple over from all of the overwhelming sensations. The room is quiet, so every noise is amplified, every touch like electricity, and it’s dark, but when he opens his eyes he can see her bright blue ones right in front of him. “Shiro,” she whispers, moving to nuzzle against his ear. “Shiro,” she says again. And he says her name right back, over and over again as she gently presses him back against the bed, and he feels like he can do anything with her over him. Like he’s not totally broken, like she’s mended him back together piece by piece, and this is the culmination of their touches and glances over the past week. It’s been settling in his gut like warm embers, but now it’s a flame, roaring through his limbs and burning him alive.

Allura is something he never would have felt he deserved, but she’s everything he wants right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. 
> 
> Anyway, I finished one of the fics for the winners. Keith is a graffiti artist and Lance is a tattoo artist. It's pretty dope. Go check it out if you're so inclined.
> 
> I'll be uploading the other (a Shallura fic) tomorrow :)


	11. Porcelain

There’s a familiar car in front of his house, parked by the mailbox. Confused, and more than a little nervous, he pulls into his driveway and sends a text to Pidge. He would text Hunk, but the guy would freak out more than he needs to, probably.

The weirdest thing is that he doesn’t see her anywhere. He climbs out of his EVO and finds his house key, looking around as he walks up to the front door. “ _¿Dónde estás?_ ” He asks, and then he unlocks the door and walks in. He’s beyond confused, but he throws his keys on the table in the foyer and heads towards the kitchen. He hasn’t been gone that long, so he thinks most of everything should be fine. Maybe his milk is spoiled, but that’s it. He reaches into the fridge and grabs a beer before walking back into the living room and flipping on the light. “Fuck!” he startles, jumping a little and spilling beer on his shirt. He doesn’t pay any mind to that, though. “Nyma! Uh…it’s…good to see you.”

She’s sitting on the edge of his couch, dressed in – not much, to be honest. This is the first time he’s ever seen her hair down, spilling everywhere, and he takes a step or two back, pressing himself against the wall discreetly. “Hi, Lance,” she smiles, waving her fingers at him. “I’ve been waiting for you. Where ever have you been?”

“Um. Vacation,” he tells her, gripping the bottle in his hand tightly. “What are you…doing here?”

She shrugs, then stands and saunters towards him; okay, two weeks ago this would have been a dream come true – it’s not so much anymore. His phone buzzes, and he curses the fact that he didn’t put it on silent. He ignores it, but she looks down at his pocket. “Oh, you can answer that,” she tells him. “I’m in no rush at _all_.”

“No, it’s – it’s fine. It would be, um, rude. Nyma, you do realize it’s not cool to just break into people’s houses right?”

She twirls a piece of hair between her fingers and pouts at him. “I was waiting for you, Lance. I just… _needed_ to see you.” She moves forward further, pressing fingertips against his chest, and he curses the fact that he can’t melt into the wall. Yes, she’s hot, super-hot, but there are two main reasons he wants her to get the fuck off him right now: she’s in with the Galra, and Keith. Even if she wasn’t mega dangerous, he wouldn’t sleep with her. That would be a super dick thing to do with everything going on between them right now.

“That’s nice. Care to, uh, tell me why?”

“I just – I think it’s _so_ funny how I saw you at Sendak’s race last week. I mean, it’s weird that you just showed up. No invitation or anything. Sendak didn’t even know you. I mean, he does _now_ , but he was less than pleased that you showed up to his race, cheated, and then ran off with the prize money and qualifier to get into the next race. But oh man, as soon as I mentioned that I knew you and your cute friend, he suddenly became so friendly. Offered me all kinds of nice, pretty things if I told him all about you, Lance Sanchez. About all of those things you told me. About your friends, about your family in Miami.”

He pushes her off of him with his free hand, seething. “What the _fuck_ , Nyma?” He moves forward, but she doesn’t budge, just looks up at him as he stares down. “What the _fuck_? Who are you? Have you been with them this whole time?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to push him out of her space. He doesn’t move an inch; he drops the beer, disregarding the way it clatters to the ground, and grabs her by the wrist so tightly she can’t hide her wince. “The Galra have only been here for a little over a year, but they don’t take kindly to people boosting their shit. I was told that if Rolo and I worked for them, it would be forgiven. And it really has now that they’ve linked you to pretty Ms. Allura and Shirogane Takashi.”

He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this angry. Ever. He surges forward pushing her backwards until her back hits the edge of the couch. “You’re a piece of shit, Nyma.”

“What are you going to do about it, Lance? Hurt me? Kill me? Honestly, I was surprised you even had the _cojones_ to show up to that race. Why don’t you show me everything you’re capable of?”

He wants to. He wants to hurt her, for threatening him and his friends, but he can’t. His grip on her shirt loosens when he feels cool metal against the back of his neck. “I can’t let you take her up on her gamble,” Rolo tells him, casually. “Back off.”

He does, slowly, and moves so that he can actually see the gun. Somehow this helps his anxiety a little bit. Rolo looks relaxed, but he’s not a killer. He wouldn’t hurt him, especially if he stands down. “What do you two want, really?”

“We wanted to make sure you show up to that race on Wednesday, and we wanted to make sure you win. Get in with Sendak’s crew, and don’t tell them that we were here. We’re not sure what your angle is, but you’re trying something. We want in on it, whatever it is.”

“So you told Sendak about my fucking family and then asked me for help.”

“Oh, no, don’t misunderstand,” Nyma says as Rolo steps forward and presses the gun to his forehead. “We’re not _asking_ ,” she giggles.

“You bring down their guard, we’ll make it so the information about you never travels up the grape vine.”

“How would you manage that?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

“Sendak hasn’t told his boss anything yet, probably saving it all up for some glorious merit. He’s gonna get you and your friends on a platter, and then present you to Zarkon. You give us the opportunity to rip that compound to shreds and take what we want, and Sendak won’t be an issue anymore.”

His phone buzzes, and then buzzes again. They all ignore it. “Well, it looks like I don’t have much of a fucking choice, do I?”

“Of course not,” Nyma tells him, walking forward and pushing a hand up his chest. She reaches around to play with the hairs at the nap of his neck and he bristles. “Because if you don’t…who knows what’ll happen to your _mamá_?” She presses her lips to his jaw, then bites him harshly before backing off. He doesn’t let the pain register on his face. He can’t give her that pleasure. “Bye, Lance. Keep what we said in mind.” She waves to him, and then she and Rolo are leaving, slinking out of the front door.

As soon as they’re gone he slumps to the floor, trying to regulate his breathing. He puts his head in his hands and lets out a soft, scared noise before leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. His phone isn’t buzzing anymore, thankfully, because he doesn’t feel like answering it.

He takes it out of his pocket, anyway, to check it. “ _Dios Mio_ ,” he groans. Seven missed texts and a missed call. Why would they try to call him when he specifically told Pidge that Nyma’s car was parked in front of his house? Wouldn’t they know he probably wouldn’t be available to answer?

He lays there for a while, just staring at the worried texts, and then an incoming call pops up on the screen. He toys with the idea of not answering it, but he figures it’s probably time. “Hey, Shiro.”

 _“Lance,”_ he exhales. _“Are you okay?”_

“Um, yes?” He returns, and he notes that his voice is quite shaky. “Yeah, I’m…I’m alright.”

 _“You don’t sound alright. Why didn’t you answer? Hunk is having a panic attack._ Pidge _is having a panic attack. What happened?”_

“I don’t really know? Nyma and Rolo apparently broke into my house to wait for me and then…fucking bombarded me. They, uh – they want in on our mission, or whatever. Apparently Nyma told Sendak all about us, about me…my family…” he trails off, and then sucks in a breath. “Sendak knows that I’m related to you and to Allura, too. They said that…if we don’t give them the opportunity to raid Sendak’s compound or whatever, they were gonna let the info go to some…Zarkon guy. I think he’s the boss.”

 _“Zarkon…yeah…yeah, I remember him…”_ He pauses for a long time, but then clears his throat. _“Listen, Lance, we have to do what they say. If Sendak knows all of that, we can’t let him tell Zarkon. Everything will be over if that happens.”_ Another pause. _“Are you sure you’re alright? You sound…off.”_

“I’m fine,” he breathes. “I mean, I probably almost killed Nyma, and Rolo had a gun to my head, but besides that – I’m chill. Very chill.”

Shiro makes a soft noise, something reassuring. _“Well, I know you wanted some time away from Keith for a few days, but maybe it’s best if you come back…”_

“No,” he shakes his head, even though Shiro can’t see him. “No, I’ll be alright.”

_“…Okay…I’ll send Hunk and Shay over, then. I don’t like you being alone right now. It’s not safe.”_

Lance understands where Shiro is coming from, but it’s still a little irritating. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. “Alright,” he nods. “Um, and apologize for me, I guess. I didn’t mean to worry anyone, I just – couldn’t answer.”

 _“We understand,”_ Shiro nods. _“Well, we’re about to board the plane back, so we won’t be available for the next couple of hours. I can text you when we land, though.”_

“Okay,” Lance nods.

_“Do you wanna talk to Keith really quick? He’s…a little upset.”_

He both does and doesn’t. He isn’t sure of whether them not seeing each other extends to any sort of contact at all. Still, if Keith is upset, he wants to reassure him a little. “Um…sure…”

There’s a moment where there’s nothing, and then the sharp sound of breathing. _“Lance,”_ Keith exhales. _“What the fuck, man? God, you almost gave us a heart attack!”_

It’s nice to hear his voice, calms him a little. “Sorry. I couldn’t answer while they were all in my space, though.”

_“What happened…?”_

“Well,” he starts. “I showed up and noticed Nyma’s car parked in my grass, but I didn’t see her anywhere, so I went inside, grabbed a beer, and went into my living room. She was already in there, though, waiting for me. We talked a little, she got way too close, said some shitty things, and when I got angry and more than ready to punch her in her fucking face, Rolo showed up with a gun, which trumps fists. Then they explained what they wanted from me and left.”

Keith is quiet for a moment. _“What did she say?”_

“…She threated me with my family…”

Keith sucks in a small breath. _“What a cunt.”_

Lance laughs, a little breathlessly. “I know, right? But before I could break my very clean record of never hitting a woman, which I was, admittedly, very ready to break, Rolo popped up. They want to be a part of what we’re doing. Apparently, they want to steal from Sendak or something, I don’t know. I don’t think they know what we’re after, either.”

The other man is quiet for a moment, his breath a little calmer now, and then he whispers, _“I’m glad you’re alright, Lance. We were all worried.”_

“I’m glad I’m okay, too,” he jokes.

Keith laughs. _“Alright, well…I have to go now. I’ll see you later.”_

“Bye,” he says, and he’s shocked by the part of him that doesn’t want to hang up. Keith does it for him.

After that he just lays there, inhaling the scent of spilled beer, and stares at the ceiling for what feels like forever before Hunk and Shay show up. Then his best friend helps him up while Shay cleans up the beer, and they plop down on the couch, turning on a video game and getting his mind off of what just happened.

* * *

 

She doesn’t like this. Not one bit. Now that Sendak knows about Lance’s connection to her and Shiro, things are going to have to be done a lot differently. There’s no telling how he’s going to react to Lance at his race, and what he’s going to do if Lance wins. And now there’s Rolo and Nyma to worry about as well. This is not good. It’s not good at all.

Shiro grabs her hand and leans a little closer to her. “When we get back to California, we’ll work on a plan. There’s nothing we can do for right now, so try to relax.”

Allura laughs lightly, “Like you’re one to talk.” She sighs, then, and turns her hand over so their fingers can twine together. “I know. But it’s so worrisome. Lance could have been-”

“Hey,” Shiro interjects, and nods towards Keith on the other couch. He looks lost in his own little world, staring at his hands and frowning deeply. She doesn’t finish her sentence. “We’ve got quite a few more hours, so maybe try to sleep a little.”

“Only if you do, too,” she smiles, but she knows the answer to that.

He shakes his head with a wry grin. “I’ll stay awake,” he says, as if she couldn’t guess that. “I’m too antsy to sleep right now.”

She leans against him heavily, her head against his shoulder. “This is just awful, Shiro,” she whispers, low enough so that Keith can’t hear her. “This is about more than your car, now. Something will have to be done about Sendak.”

“Lance said Nyma and Rolo would take care of him.”

“What if something goes wrong? I don’t trust either of them.”

“I don’t either,” Shiro agrees, shaking his head. She nuzzles into his shirt, breathing in his scent. It makes her feel a lot better about everything. “But we don’t have much of a choice at this point. For now, let’s just rest, and we can regroup when we land.”

She nods, and then Keith speaks up. “Shiro…I heard you mention Zarkon. What…what is he like?”

Allura feels Shiro tense up underneath her, and she rubs circles into his skin, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder. After a moment, he relaxes somewhat. “Evil,” he whispers. “He’s terrible. I don’t – I don’t remember much of him at all, just an…idea, really. When Lance said his name it came rushing back; it’s just this sick feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.”

That’s the case with most of the things Shiro can remember, Allura has come to find out. He’s told her things that she thinks he hasn’t even told Keith, maybe out of guilt and whatnot, but he’s confided things in her that have left her feeling winded. Shiro has a lot that he’s buried down. She wants to help him overcome that.

“Let’s change the subject for now,” Allura puts in. “Why don’t I put on a film?”

Shiro huffs in slight amusement and then smiles. “Sounds good. What do you think, Keith?”

For a moment, Keith is quiet, but then he smiles a little as well. “Yeah, that does sound good.”

“Alright,” she laughs. “I get to choose the first one. How about a classic?” She turns on the television and flips through the movies on it, giggling and finally settling on The Sound of Music. “This is non-negotiable.”

Keith groans, but it’s good-natured. “I guess,” he jokes.

Shiro doesn’t say anything, but he does smile and wrap his arm around her shoulders. She curls up to him and presses play. Time for a distraction.

* * *

 

Pidge sighs, dragging their hands down their face. They’ve been sitting in front of this computer for hours, which isn’t strange, really – it’s the fact that they’ve been totally lost for a majority of this time that exhausts them. When Lance texted them, they immediately went into freak-out mode, which is something that they don’t often experience. Generally, Pidge can keep their cool – usually they don’t even have to try. They’ve found that looking at a situation from an analytical standpoint has more merit than from an emotional one. Still, Nyma showing up at Lance’s house was decidedly Not Good. When Shiro called Hunk and asked him to go over and stay with their friend, he also filled all of them in on what actually happened.

Pidge is not pleased at all that Lance was threatened, especially with his family. Lance is hotheaded and emotional on the best of days, and if anything happened to any of his family, or any of them, nice things would not ensue. They’ve never seen Lance really, truly angry, but they can imagine it, and he would probably put himself in danger if he thought he was protecting the people he loves.

This leads to somewhat of a dilemma. Pidge has been skimming the boards, trying to find anything that Sendak might have posted in relation to any of them, but it seems like every time they learn the cipher for the website, a new code is put in place. It doesn’t look like any language Pidge has ever seen, and the amount of research they’ve done has been colossal. It’s irritating and bothersome and they just want to figure this out.

They don’t realize how dark the house is until all of the lights flip on. They blink, eyes aching, and look up as Allura, Shiro, and Keith enter, alongside Coran. Now that Hunk and Shay are gone, it’s just the five of them altogether.

“Pidge,” Allura chastises. “You look awful. You need to sleep.”

“Gee, thanks,” they return, rolling their eyes. “I’ve been trying to work this out, and I just can’t get it. I refuse to go to sleep until I do.”

“You need sleep, Pidge,” Shiro reiterates, walking down the table and placing a hand on their arm. “You won’t be able to do anything if you’re too exhausted.”

“He’s right, you know!” Coran starts. “Human beings need sleep in ord-”

“I’m _fine_ ,” they interject. “I slept last night. I’ll be okay. I just…” They wipe their eyes, sighing. “I just need to figure this out. The race is in a little over fifty hours. Lance needs to go in prepared. I refuse to let one of my best friends get hurt because I ‘needed’ sleep.”

No one has anything to say to that, which isn’t shocking. What is shocking is Allura’s soft smile and even softer, “I’ll put on some coffee. Five minds are better than one, correct? What is the saying? ‘We can sleep when we’re dead.’”

“That’s my favorite saying,” Pidge smiles, a little weakly. “But yeah, thanks guys.”

“No problem,” Keith says, pulling out a chair and resting his chin on his palm. “We…we all want to do everything we can for Lance.”

Their grin turns a little wicked. “I’m sure.”

He blushes and looks away.

Pidge gets back to what’s on their screen, squinting, watching, and writes down clues every couple of lines and explaining what they’ve come upon already. By the time the coffee is ready, everyone is up to speed and helping them decode.

* * *

 

He doesn’t sleep well that night, but admittedly, he didn’t really think he would. Hunk, Shay, and him are all curled up in his queen bed, squished together, but really that’s the most comforting part of all of it. It’s just that every time he closes his eyes he thinks of the way the gun felt against his forehead, or what Sendak could do to his family. It’s probably somewhere around one or two in the morning when Shay starts to coo at him, petting down his hair, and he feels a little like a child, but it’s nice. Honestly she probably just wants to get him to sleep so that she can as well, but still – Shay is as much his friend as the rest of them are at this point. She’s a part of the family as well.

He does sleep at some point, he guesses, because he wakes up. Hunk and Shay aren’t in the room, which immediately puts him on edge, but then he smells the bacon and realizes that’s what woke him up in the first place. He climbs out of bed, dreary, and walks towards the kitchen. Shay has her arms around Hunk from behind while he uses tongs to flip the bacon, and they’re whispering things to each other. For a moment, Lance just watches from the doorway, not really wanting to intrude, but also experiencing weird chest pains.

He knows why. This was probably the worst time for him to let go of his Keith security blanket, but he still needs to stay strong. This is for the best, probably. And besides, missing Keith is a good thing, right? If it all didn’t just fade when they were separated and such, that has to mean something. But it hasn’t been long enough. It’s only been two days since they saw each other last, and they spoke on the phone for a little while yesterday.

He sighs and steps the rest of the way into the kitchen, trudging to his fridge and pulling out some orange juice. The expiration date says its fine, so he pours some into a mug and leans against the counter. “Good morning,” Shay tells him with a smile. “How did you sleep?”

He shrugs. “The fact that I slept at all is a miracle, honestly.”

Her smile turns a little wry. “Yes, I recall that you were having some issues.”

He has the decency to be a little sheepish about it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“It is fine,” she insists. “You have been through a lot lately. If Hunk was in your place he would have missed sleep for weeks.”

“She’s right,” Hunk laughs, nodding.

“Hunk would have had a heart attack,” Lance laughs, and Hunk nods again.

“Also right.”

“So that bacon is for me, right?” Lance asks, grinning, leaning forward to get a better sniff.

“Yes,” Hunk laughs. “Shay and I already ate. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed –”

“Like a good husband.”

“Yes, like a good husband – but you already woke up, so that idea’s been ruined.” He takes the bacon out of the pan and sits it on a plate of napkins, patting it and letting the grease drain out. “You had tomatoes but they aren’t any good anymore,” Hunk tells him. “The lettuce either. But you did have bread and you did have mayonnaise so you get a BLT minus the L and the T.”

“My favorite,” Lance jokes.

“And then I thought that after we could marathon the Star Trek movies. The original ones from the eighties. I know those are your favorites.”

“They go back in time to save whales, Hunk. It’s cinematic genius, I tell you.”

“It’s wonderful,” he agrees. “Also,” he starts, and then trails off. “Well, Pidge wanted to talk to you about something they found last night, apparently. When they called earlier I told them I was letting you sleep, which appalled them because they don’t understand that sleep is necessary for humans to survive, but they agreed to let me off the hook if I promised you would call when you woke up.”

Lance sighs. “I’ll call them after I eat. I’m starving.”

“I bet,” Shay laughs. “You did not eat very much at dinner last night.”

Well, he was focused on all of the other shit that was happening, but he doesn’t mention that. He just nods. “True, true.”

Once the bacon is relatively cool and not soaked in grease, Hunk toasts some bread, spreads mayo on it, adds the bacon, and then hands him the plate. “Extra crispy, the way you like it.”

“You know me so well. I love you, Hunk.”

“I love you, too, Lance,” he laughs. “Now eat. Shay and I will go set up the movies for whenever you’re done with your phone call.”

He nods, and then plops into a chair at his small kitchen table and digs in. He gets about halfway through the sandwich before he loses his appetite. He just…he can’t stop thinking about what Nyma said. He left Miami to save his family from his bullshit, but it looks like it didn’t really help, did it? He rests his head in his hands and lets out a shaky sigh. If anything happened to his _mamá_ , or his _hermanos_ , he doesn’t know what he’d do. Shit, honestly he’d probably even be pissed if they went after his dad. Probably. Maybe. If he was upset, it would probably only be because they’re going after him via people they believe he loves. That they’re trying to hurt him by hurting others. It’s genius, in a way, seeing as Lance definitely cares a lot more about his friends and family than he does himself, no matter what he tends to exude. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost any of them, especially because of something he did.

He pushes his plate to the side, suddenly disgusted at the thought of eating, and drags his phone towards him. He stares at it for a few seconds, and then unlocks it and calls Pidge.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

Lance is appalled. Pidge has never not answered a phone call – ever. Especially when they were waiting on it. He calls again. When Pidge doesn’t answer this time he starts to get _very_ worried. But just as he’s about to hang up and freak out, the line picks up.

_“Lance?”_

Oh god. Of _course_ it’s him. “Keith? Where’s Pidge?”

 _“Sleeping, actually_ ,” Keith returns, amused. _“They passed out about half an hour ago and no one wants to wake them up. We’re afraid if we do they’ll never go back to sleep.”_

“If you even could wake them up. When Pidge passes out from exhaustion, a nuclear war couldn’t get them awake.”

 _“That’s for the best, probably_ ,” Keith says, and he sighs a little. _“They – we – were up all night last night pretty much. I’m running on what feels like thirty cups of coffee.”_

“Why?” Lance leans back in his seat a little, playing with the edge of his tablecloth. He’s kind of glad that Pidge is sleeping, and not just because they deserve the rest. “What happened?”

The other man doesn’t say anything at first, and then, _“We were trying to work out whether we could find anything out on the forums. You know, about…you.”_

His heart stutters in his chest and he sits up straight, throat closing up a little. “Well? What did you find?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Keith says, and everything in Lance slumps as he relaxes.

“ _Gracias a Dios_ ,” he sighs. “What’s the issue then?”

_“Well, your name was never mentioned, but Sendak did post a couple times kind of…threatening anyone who thought they might try to, I don’t know, pull one over on him. That, coupled with what Nyma told you…we’re worried. We don’t know how much he really knows. So it’s like…we’re more scared of what isn’t there than what is.”_

Ah, the anxiety is back. “Well fuck. You don’t think he’s just gonna pop one off in me when I show up in San Diego tomorrow, do you?”

 _“Fuck, I hope not,”_ Keith breathes out, laughing nervously. _“Wouldn’t that fucking suck?”_

“More than a little. I’m not too fond of dying.” He says, as lightly as he can. “So…what does everyone think I should do then?”

_“Normally I would tell you to lay low, but ‘A’ – I don’t think you’re capable of that ever, and ‘B’ – it wouldn’t work anyway. Sendak knows who you are now, and he knows who you’re rolling with. He just doesn’t know why you’re there. Allura thinks – wait, I’ll just…I’ll just put you on speaker, hold on.”_

It takes a few moments and some rustling, and then, _“Can you hear me?”_

“Yeah,” Lance nods.

 **“And me?”** Allura asks.

“Yep.”

 **“Great,”** She says. **“Alright, so this is what we think. Sendak is going to want to know why you’re there. He already knows that you know me and Shiro, but he doesn’t have to know that we’re all working together on this. Your best bet would be to – well, lie. Tell him you’re in with us only to get information that you planned on bringing to him, or something along those lines. He’s a little bit gullible. If you tell him that you’re essentially giving yourself up, he’ll believe you. It also helps that you’re staying on your own, now. It looks like while all of this is going on, it would be best for you to stay out of Malibu.”** Well that works out. What a lovely excuse. It’s nice that it also makes sense in terms of the mission. **“You’ll still have back-up from Pidge over the com, but you’ll have to be more discreet with it, and only use it during the race…”** she trails off. **“I don’t like this, none of us do, but unfortunately once you’re done with the race, destroy the earpiece. If Sendak finds any kind of tap on you or in your car, he could very well kill you. So that part you’ll…have to do on your own…”**

He swallows, audibly. “Awesome,” he returns weakly. “Just…great…”

**“I’ll make sure you have whatever you need to defend yourself, Lance, and if it comes down to it and you need us, send us a text. We’ll be hiding out in Coronado playing tourist, but we will come as soon as you need us.”**

That’s good, at least. Malibu is several hours away, but Coronado isn’t far from where the race is going to be at all. He almost wishes he could go to the beach there with them. _“Lance, we won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”_ Keith insists, sounding a little urgent. Lance wonders if he’s trying to convince himself as well. _“We promise, we’ll come get you. We won’t leave you.”_

Lance hears the underlying ‘ _I won’t leave you_ ,’ and it makes his eyes a little hot. Mainly because if they’re this worried, it means he’s in real danger. But he can’t stop now. They’re already this far in.

“You know,” he starts then. “At first I thought I was just happy to win a race against you, but…I’m glad you’re not in my place, Keith…”

The other side of the line is quiet, and maybe that was a little intimate, a little much, especially over speakerphone, but then Keith whispers, “ _Lance_ ,” and he doesn’t feel so bad. _“You’re not allowed to say things like that…”_

Keith sounds a little embarrassed, and maybe a little irritated, too; Lance chuckles, but ultimately moves on. “Okay, so I’ll start heading south tomorrow afternoon. Should I take the Lamborghini again?”

Allura clears her throat. **“You don’t have to. Now that they know who you are, you’re welcome to use your EVO. I’m sure it has much better maneuverability.”**

“Yeah, the Lambo is nice, but not good for street-racing,” he agrees. “Well, I’m gonna go binge Star Trek now. I’ll, uh…talk to you later, I guess.”

 **“Goodbye, Lance,”** Allura says, and Lance is about to hang up when he notices he was taken off of speaker.

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith chides. _“Don’t do that.”_

“Do what?”

_“You know what. That’s not fair.”_

He sighs. “Sorry, okay? But I meant it.”

Keith is quiet for a few moments. _“I know you did…”_ he says. _“That’s what makes it so shitty to hear…”_

At first Lance doesn’t get it. It was a nice thing to say, he thinks, and while he did mean it in a special way for Keith, he probably would have said it to any of his friends. But then he thinks about how Keith feels, and how it upsets him that Lance tends to be a little ambiguous in his words and actions. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’ll try to watch what I say a little better for right now, but you know how well my filter works.”

 _“Which is to say: not at all,”_ Keith chuckles. “ _It’s…it’s okay. I guess I would feel the same if our roles were reversed. But if you get to say shit like that, then I do, too.”_

His heartrate picks up a little. “That’s only fair,” he returns.

 _“I can’t sleep when I think about all the danger you’re in. It keeps me up half the night, honestly, and then all I want is for you to be lying next to me, to remind me that you’re safe. But I hate that, because I should still be too mad at you to want that. And then I hate it even more because I really wasn’t even that angry for it to begin with.”_ Lance doesn’t know what to say to that, and then Keith goes on. _“I mean, I guess I am pissed at you, don’t think I’m not, but…just please be safe, Lance. I don’t want to lose you before we even get the chance to…well, I don’t want to lose you at all. None of us do. I swear, if you die because of something stupid, some idiotic hero’s complex, I won’t forgive you.”_

“I promise I’ll be safe,” he returns. “I don’t want to hurt any of you…I…don’t want to hurt _you_ , Keith.” He hears a sharp inhale of breath.

_“You fucking…fuck. I hate you so much right now.”_

“I know…”

_“Remember that I get to beat your ass if you pull that wishy-washy shit on me again. I promise, I’ll make you wish Sendak had killed you.”_

Keith probably couldn’t hurt a hair on his head, so the threat really just makes him chuckle. “You’ll have free reign, I promise.”

Keith sighs deeply. “ _Alright_ ,” he says finally. _“I’ll talk to you later, then. Try not to be so much of an inconsiderate dick next time we talk.”_

It’s almost hilarious, because Lance has been nothing but sweet, but understands what Keith means completely. “But it’s what I do best!” He exclaims, and Keith makes a mocking noise of disgust. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you in a couple days, Keith.”

_“…See you then, Lance.”_

“Bye.”

_“Bye…”_

He stares at his phone for a few moments afterwards, and doesn’t realize how wide he’s grinning until his face starts to hurt. Slapping his cheeks, he stands and makes his way to the living room. When he gets there, he tries to only explain the bare minimum, but Hunk always has a way of getting him to gush everything out.

Shay hits him in the arm when he’s finished explaining.

He probably deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright well...this is kind of shitty guys but...I'm getting rid of this. It's something I've been thinking about for a while, and recently someone made a comment that was the catalyst for this. I'm really appreciative to everyone who liked this, but honestly I have a lot of problems with it and I just don't think I want to keep it around any more. Thanks for staying with me the past month, though, really. Anyone who wants chapters 12-15 can comment or ask on tumblr and I'll email them to you. And I can tell you pretty much what I originally planned to happen as well.
> 
> Thanks again for all of your sweet comments :)


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